


Demons

by KenjoCatze



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Sheriff Stilinski, Creature Stiles, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Gen, Illustrated, Kistune Sheriff Stilinski, Kitsune Stiles Stilinski, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Nogitsune, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Try dark magic, When life brings you down, some hurt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 00:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12024252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KenjoCatze/pseuds/KenjoCatze
Summary: ‘Stiles would do anything to save his dad's life, even turning down a path that leads to the dark side. Not that Scott would get that reference.'It was a stupid idea to drag Scott into the preserve from the beginning; now he's been outed, his best friend is slipping away, and there's a crazy Alpha out to take everything he holds dear.Or that one where Sheriff Stilinski was always a kitsune and it changeseverything.





	1. Don't walk in forests at night unless you want to be bit.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, this is purely for my own entertainment.

**Scott I**

Scott McCall is alone at night, walking through a dark forest, trying his hardest not to stumble over a bisected body. The leaves and twigs under his feet crunch as Scott drags his way past tall trees and through the thick mist. His lungs have already begun tightening on his air and he has to slow his pace every so often. Scott isn't sure where he is or if he is even heading in the right direction, Stiles had been the one that knew where they were going. But without him, Scott doesn't care really where he ends up, so long as he found a way home. Or just into someone's garden.

Scott yawns and breathes in with his stomach. Stiles should be there to suffer with him, it had been his idea to go out in the forest. Brothers together in pain. He wishes Stiles hadn't rushed ahead and gotten himself caught by his dad, leaving Scott all alone. The Sheriff will without a doubt call his mom when he gets Stiles dragged back to his car. He'll do it out of worry - he knows the kind of trouble they get into - if not to prove that his son is lying. Scott knows he will get grounded for a year.

A bird howls from above and Scott flinches in surprise, almost falling over a decaying log. “Relax Scott,” He tells himself and rubs green moss from his hands, there are small cuts littering his palms and Scott sighs. He doesn’t usually talk to himself but in the silence of night, alone and tense it seemed sensible. Dr. Deaton had taught him that some tame animals calm from speech while most wild ones would run from the potential danger, “There's nothing in the forest except for animals and-”

 _A dead body_.

The Sheriff had been out looking for the body, but they might have been looking for a murderer too. _A killer._

A branch snaps behind him. Scott freeze, his heart jumping to his throat, he is going to _die_. A murderer is behind him _waiting_ \- with a chainsaw, or an axe. He is never going to get his chance at first line, he’s never going to meet a nice girl and have cute babies, Scott is going to _die_ and he needs to move. Without looking back, Scott runs from the sound as another branch snaps behind him, the wind howls in his ears but the sound of a second pair of footsteps follows right behind him. His lungs constrict and Scott grasps for his inhaler, falling over in the dark. He shuts his eyes, clenching them closed, waiting for the pain.

The person behind him yips like an animal.

“Dude.” Scott slumps on the ground in relief, his whole body relaxes as he recognises the sound, the slightly higher pitch. Scott rolls over and looks at the small fox sitting beside him with a sly grin and a laugh in his pale eyes. It’s small, the size of a common house cat, with a grey and black fur that makes it almost invisible in the dark.

“Don't sneak up on me Tod.”

Tod stares at him unblinking before jumping with excitement, it runs a small distance away before speeding back and nipping at him, then taking off again with a stumble in his steps, telling him to follow. Scott grins and when he sits up he notices something metal glittering in the moonlight around the fox's neck. As the fox ran back again, unnerved with what had gotten wrapped around its neck, Scott scooped the animal up and held him gently so he wouldn't bite.

Scott still has a big scar on his hand from when he'd tried it years ago.

Tod freezes in shock and Scott spots what’s around his neck, it is a pair of handcuffs. Scott can't imagine the fox having accidentally locked them around its neck by itself. The only conclusion he can make is that someone had taken a fox and put them on it. If Tod hadn't found Scott it might have gotten caught on something like a branch and died from starvation or choking. Scott can’t imagine how someone could willingly harm a small harmless animal like that.

“Okay,” Scott whispers calmly as he stands up again, still holding the stiff fox in his arms. “I'm going to take you to Dr. Deaton, he'll be able to help okay?”

At the mention of Scott’s boss’ name the fox wiggles in protest and opens its jaw to lightly hold Scott’s thumb hostage. He doesn't try and get free but stares at him for a good while before snorting. Releasing his thumb. He glances away from Scott and then back, then he looks away again before looking back flatly, he can almost hear the ‘ _What are you waiting for? Get moving you idiot human!’_ from the expression on its face.

 “Yeah, yeah.” Scott obeys the creature but keeps glancing down at the animal as he holds him like he's a domestic animal. Scott, even after the years he'd known the fox, still wasn't sure if it had been someone's pet or if it had rabies.

Stiles had laughed when Scott shared his theory with him, telling him the fox probably just had rabies. That it was always biting him to infect him too so they could both live in a fox-den as wild animals. “Then again Scott, he might be biting you for that horrible nickname.” Stiles had told him, but that couldn’t be true.

Tod loves his name. Scott knows it.

Reindeer comes flying past Scott, a few meters towards him and they'd hit him and Tod. He staggers back from them as one veers from the herd and come dangerously close to hitting him. Scott backs away, just in case of another one comes running at them. Tod growls in his arms as his ears dart back and forth, listening as they trample by.

The flock lets up and Scott breathes with relief and falls over with a yelp. Todd quickly jumps from his arms before he's squished by Scott's chest. The ground is cold and unforgiving, small rocks dig their way into his clothes and skin. Scott groans and glances over at Tod before glancing towards the cause of his trip.

Scott screams, shock and fear curling down to his toes. Her big round eyes stare unseeing at him, her mouth that looks like it was more used to coy smirks is parted in surprise and without fear. There are bloody scratches all over her pretty face, small and shallow compared to the ones tearing at her naked skin, and at her waist is nothing but blood and gore. Her body torn to pieces. Scott’s eyes water as he hyperventilates, dragging his body away with shaking arms and legs that won't stand. He pushes up to a tree and stares, with a shaky breath, at the bisected corpse laying in front of him.

Tod is on his paws and he sniffs at her body. Scott turns away from the scene and closes his eyes tightly. The image of her face and the insides of her body hangs on his eyes, he sees her again, more human insides than he'd ever wanted to see.

He can't stand to watch while the small fox tears into the girl’s body.

He opens his eyes with a stutter of breath, casting aside the gore and the imprint on his eyes. Scott waits for the sound of Tod ripping at her flesh, eating her. Many foxes are scavengers, eating already dead animals.

But he doesn't, instead, the fox shrieks, the noise loud and deafening. Tod collides right into Scott’s leg after shouting. He can feel its teeth scratching against his skin as it bits on his pants, and drags at them.

If Tod wants to get away from the body, Scott really cannot agree more.

He tries to run with the fox and a howl rings out from all around him. Scott stands frozen, his bones chilling inside out as his hands quiver and his eyes flicker around trying to find the source. A monster steps from the shadows, its eyes glow like a heat lamp, filled with hatred. Its body looks like a muscular, hunched over man; muscles bulging and covered in black fur, the creature snarls with the face of an animal. Its teeth gleam in the moonlight as it stalks towards Scott and steps over the girl's body. Scott dares look down for a second when he hears Tod growling right back at the monster even though it could snap his small body with one bite of sharp teeth.

Scott doesn't think. He reaches and grabs the fox, Tod yelps- startled by the quick action- and Scott runs. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if the fox died. Tod struggles in his arms, trying to wiggle away from his grip. Scott doesn't look down as he runs with all the ferocity he can muster up; his lungs demand a break but he continues on. His hands are shaking as he changes his hold on Tod, holding him maybe a little too tight and fumbles for his inhaler, it's gone.

Behind Scott, the creature howls yet again, it was long and drawn out like those wolves Scott has seen on television, howling to each other as they closed in on their prey. Something gigantic wraps around Scott’s ankle and sharp points digs into his flesh as he falls. Scott shrieks with fear and desperation as he instinctively rolls with the fall and lands like coach has drilled into the brains of the entire lacrosse team.

It's a mistake; the monster is above him in seconds, and Scott has no way to get to his feet again as his useless limbs give out on him. He lies frozen with fear and Tod snarls and snaps at the monster's arm pressing down beside Scott's head.

The monster barks loudly as Tod bites down on human like fingers. The creature pulls its other paw to the side and slaps it over Scott and into Tod. Tod yelps with distress and pain as he soars through the air and rolls to a stop by slamming into a tree stump. Bats screech and escape in a flourish of wings.

The monster returns its attention to Scott, it's red eyes gleaming with hunger as it opens its mouth. The smell is horrid, like the sick animals taken to the vet. Its face is clearer up close, it looks less like a wolf and more like a werewolf from old movies.

A shadow of something larger flies by the corner of his eye and slams straight into the monster with a loud thud. It stops right where the monster had been crouching over Scott just seconds before. Scott stares up at the large creature, as large as a horse but with the natural anatomy of a common red fox, it’s red fur is giving off small sparks that light it up in the night sky, and behind it is not one, but several tails flicking angrily.

Scott can't breathe, his breath coming out in small quick gasps, his arms are sore from falling and his knees are weak as he pushes himself through the shrubbery and away from the fight between monsters. They fight like two dogs, biting for each other’s throats while scratching with front paws. The smaller monster looks to have the advantage with the larger fox backing away ever so slightly to keep away from dangerous claws and teeth. The fox then leaps and lands on the wrapped monsters back and tears into the neck fur. The small monster struggles and its front legs twists like a human arm, gripping the fox's left paw. It twists and swings the larger monster from its body and leaps after the tumbling fox. They disappear from Scott immediate vision as they brawl, but the sounds of snapping teeth and threatening growls keep him rooted to the ground with something that can only be primal fear.

Scott lurches as a small paw touches his leg and he kicks the small fox from him in shock. Tod yelps and lowers his ears, keeping low on the ground as he approaches again. Tod rests his paws on his leg and he can feel the anxiety and panic fade away to leave a strangely detached calm that feels _wrong._ He looks at the fox, Tod has another tail, but Scott just blinks and runs a hand though the fur between his ears. The fox looks at him, its eyes glowing a pale purple that washes out the pupils of his eyes. Tod turns his head as the two giant monsters roll back before them in a flurry of snapping teeth. One of the tail tips from the large fox hits Scott right in the face, he falls over from the blow and closes his eyes against the wet dirt. Tod squeaks as he's taken with the shift of Scott's body, his small form hangs over Scott's hip.

He opens his eyes at stare at the two fighting monsters, the black monster bites down on the fox’s front leg. The fox howls with pain but the sound is nothing in comparison to the anguished scream Tod releases in that moment as he scrambles to get down from Scott.

The big fox flinches away from the monster and its fur sparks, light flaring among trees as the world turns to fire and shadows recoils from the burning lights. The flames surge all the way around them, caging them in and wrapping up trees.

A different fox leaps over the flames, untouched by the fire and lands gracefully by the other. The new fox is white and its fur is like a beacon of golden light shining out and giving off light glares. There are even more tails behind the new one, moving smoothly among each other despite being so cluttered. The new fox is different, stands with an _otherworldly_ presence, even Scott can tell from only one look. He can't look away as it takes a step towards the dark monster, it's head held high and its eyes golden and focused.

The black monster whines and ducks its head as it backs away like a caged animal. But it stops short at the wall of fire surrounding them and scrambles away, scared. Scott looks over with difficulty, squinting against the blinding light the white fox is giving off, as the monster lowers itself to the ground. Scott would have done the same, he thinks as he watches the red fox glances at the bigger, white one and then at Scott. Scott pushes the small fox still laying over his legs off and begins to sit up, his gaze captured by the white fox. He can’t get himself to l _ook away_.

But then the otherworldly fox and all the blinding light disappears in one go like they had never been there to begin with. And the black monster, with wild eyes full of crazy, turns and runs straight for the fire. It jumps over and scrambles to its feet on the other side before leaping away. The fire simmers out around them.

Tod huff's an audible human-like sigh of relief that Scott does not feel. He looks at the remaining fox as it stares the way the black one had gone. The big fox turns and looks at Scott. He can't quite place the expressions but then it turns its attention to Tod and growls quickly, its face sharp and accusing. The small silver fox yelps and skitters behind Scott, using him as a meat shield. Scott is frozen as the large fox walks up to him and puffs air in his face, his bangs lift from his sweaty and dirty forehead.

Then it takes a step back and _morphs,_ its shape distorts, stretching and bending until it's on two legs. It takes maybe a few seconds but it felt like hours to Scott and he watches the face form into a familiar expression with thinned lips and lines in his forehead standing out more than usual. Scott had seen the expression every time he and Stiles had been caught while doing something.

It's Sheriff Stilinski.

“Scott,” Stilinski says like he had not just been a giant fox monster. He's holding his bleeding arm tightly. “Oh Hell. This is not how we wanted you to find out.”

Scott can't reply, he sits flat and frozen on his ass and stares blankly up at a man he'd thought he knew. He finds his voice, “What do you mean we?” Scott dreads the answer and blinks very slowly.

Stilinski looks at Scott and faster than Scott can follow snags the small fox from behind him. The normally calm man shakes the animal, Tod’s head whip back and forth and he yelps. “What were you thinking!?” He demands of the fox and stops shaking him, he stares, waiting for something.

Scott wants to tell him not to hurt Tod but his throat is clamping up, he can already guess what's coming.

Tod whines pitifully, his paws coming up to scratch against the handcuffs around his neck. Sheriff Stilinski shifts the fox into one hand and reaches for his pockets. The cuffs come off and Stilinski drops Tod- no, Stiles, as he begins morphing just like Stilinski had done. Scott stares as his best friend forms and bumps down on the earth, yelping and flailing with surprise.

“For god's sake Stiles,” Stilinski says and drags Stiles up by his armpit, he does not let go, “What were you thinking!? Going out here when a body was cut in _half!_ You know what that can mean!”

“I was just-” Stiles begins to defend himself.

“No Stiles,” Stilinski cuts his son off without hesitation and releases his arm to drag a tired hand down his face, “I have to go after the Alpha and _you're_ going to take Scott home, understood?”

Stilinski does not wait for Stiles reply before he's transformed again and leaping over a fallen tree. Disappearing from sight.

Scott looks at his friend, Stiles looks nervous. “This is a dream, right? I'm seeing things.”

Stiles shakes his head and scratches at his buzz cut. “No Scott. It's not a dream, and if it was a dream then you come with me to the jeep anyway. It’s blue in the real world but here in the not-dream it’s red- the jeep, I mean.” he says with a wry smile and reaches over to Scott and holds his hand out to help him up.

Scott stares at the hand as if he doesn't recognise it. He doesn't. It had been a paw just a minute ago, a small paw and not a human hand. His best and only friend had been Tod, his only other friend. “You- you're,” Scott stumbles over his words, the panic was coming back and he can't breathe. “A f-fox and Sheriff Stilinski was-”

“Scott, man you've gotta calm down okay? I'm a fox my dad's a giant fox the other thing was a Werewolf okay?” Stiles rushes the words out and touches Scott's shoulder. It's meant to be comforting but Scott only withdraws from the touch. Stiles breathes out slowly and begins talking again. “Look, we need to get out of the preserve, right? If we don't the Alpha could attack us again and it's breath stank like dead animals- it’s probably all the innocent bunnies it's been eating- so listen. I'll- listen, I'll explain everything once we're in the jeep.”

Scott nods, he just wants to go home and get to bed and wake up from the horrible nightmare where his best friend is Tod. Stiles holds his hand out again and Scott takes it hesitantly, he's pulled up and Stiles slips his arm around him as he almost falls. “Let's not have you fall for the hundredth time today.” Stiles says lightly and grins.

They're back in Stiles’ old and blue jeep when Scott finally speaks again. “You've been Tod all this time?” He asks, “Is that why you hate Dr. Deaton? Because I took you to him when you broke your leg?”

Stiles drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “That man is evil Scott, I'm telling you. He didn't even call my dad, just let me stink in that cage for a day. And it did stink, a lot actually, the cat above me regurgitated and I _got some of it on me_.”

“Deaton knew?” Did everyone except him know that his only friend was some kind of monster fox? Scott got the feeling that the answer is yes.

“He's a druid,” At Scott's bewildered look Stiles continued, “It means he's a hippie wizard, with all their supernatural rules.”

They lapse into silence, Scott has so many questions but he doesn't know where to start or what to ask.

“I'm not a fox,” Stiles says after a while, “it's Kitsune, remember how I told you I have Japanese ancestry. That's where it comes from, my granddad was a half Japanese kitsune and grandma is a western kitsune. My mom wasn't a kitsune though, it's why I'm currently very human and not stuck as a fox for a hundred years.”

Scott gaps, “A _hundred_ years!?”

Stiles laughs, it sounds fake. “Dads around seven hundred, but he doesn't really remember the exact date either. Besides you'd like me anyway, I remember you calling me the definition of cuteness and adorableness. You're very good at cuddles too, you're very thorough.”

“Dude, I am and did not say that,” Scott denies vehemently and an image of him in his backyard with a lacrosse stick flashes in his mind. Scott pales. “You saw, that time in my backyard. That's why you kept laughing at me the day after.”

“Oh, I definitely did Scott, it was highly embarrassing. I could practically feel your embarrassment.”

“Why not tell me?”

“I don't know. I was scared maybe,” Stiles turns from him to watch the road as he turns down Nilsson street, “I didn't want you to get hurt. Yet here we are,” the last part was said bitterly and Stiles hands tights on the steering wheel, “If I had done what dad said and stayed in the car or hadn't smelled that she- the woman- was a werewolf or if dad had been slower, you'd have been bitten and -” He broke his train of thought, “We're here.”

Scott looked at his house, searching for his mom's car. She wasn't home. “What do you mean bitten?”

Stiles looks at him with worried eyebrows. “That thing that attacked us was an Alpha werewolf. They're not even supposed to look like that, this one wasn't right in its mind. That form… anyway, they're supposed to look like regular wolves, maybe a bit big, but not like some mutant radioactive wolfman. It was weird Scott, it didn't feel right.”

Scott furrows his brows. “What does that mean?”

“Made me want to claw my own brain out, like a million bugs crawling over my brain and body. And not just ants, like those with the millions of legs and those with the little suckers,” Stiles shakes from head to toe, like he's getting rid of the feeling and looks away. “bad jibes dude, that werewolf was so far away I'm surprised his soul hadn't left for a pizzeria already.”

Scott makes a face.

“An Alpha can turn people, humans, like yourself into werewolves.” Stiles groans against the steering wheel and looks over at Scott. “We should never have gone out there. She was cut in half I knew that. I put you at risk of being bitten and- I was stupid and bored.”

“Your dad said that too, what does it mean then?” Scott asks, dreading the answer. Something as cutting someone in half was common enough that the mention of it would have kept Stiles away.

“Hunters. Long story short, they hunt supernatural creatures and kill us because they think we're monsters. They may call us monsters, but they're the real monsters. They cut us in half because it will kill us for sure. Wolfsbane is toxic, and some of them have it in their bullets, one shot and something like a Werewolf will die slowly. Tortured to their death.” There’s something in Stiles’ eyes as he talks, something Scott doesn’t want to see in them again, something ugly and desperate.

“Who would just-” Scott shuts himself off as he remembers the black monster- the Alpha Werewolf and winces, he'd been thinking of them as monsters the whole time. “Are there hunters in Beacon Hills?” Scott asks instead.

“I don’t know. Some years ago, yes, Beacon Hills was swarmed with them, like a swarm of mosquitoes. But they left, there shouldn’t have-” Stiles cuts himself off to breathe, “Been any since.”

Scott nods, something has been bugging him about the whole thing. “Why are you so little compared to your dad?”

“I'm not little.” Stiles replies instantly and fiddles nervously with his keys. Scott laughs.

“Yes, you are dude, like a small cat. And you're a silver fox but your dad's a normal red, I'm not all that good at biology but I don't think genetics work like that.”

“I'm a different kind of kitsune than my dad. It's what determines the spirit form,” Stiles says and leans over to open Scott's door, “That's enough Q and A for today, get some of that sleep you wanted. I'm not coming to school with you tomorrow so you'll need the energy to survive coach’s evil without me.” there's a glee to his expression as he practically pushes Scott out the car. But Scott catches the door frame before Stiles can flee. “What do you mean you're not coming?”

Stiles expression changes from sadistic glee at the thought of Scott enduring coach alone to fear to flat and guarded in a few seconds. “Dad was bitten.”

Scott blinks. “But he's not human so what does that have to do with anything?”

“It means he's dying Scott,” Scott opens his mouth as Stiles continues, “I- I can't lose my dad. And he's not going to find the Alpha tonight. It's too quick and can hide its scent, I didn't even smell it before we _saw_ it. That's impossible _unless_ it can do that. Kitsune has some pretty decent senses compared to the rest of the supernatural world. Dad already used too much time with us so it would have had the time to hide and with the illusion of grandma, it would definitely think it was screwed. And it bit dad, and knows we're after it now because we need it to help dad and all it has to do is wait it out until dad dies and-”

Scott grabs Stiles arm, shaking him from where his thoughts were going. “I'll help you capture it. I'll skip school with you.” he says and hopes Stiles knows that Scott will be there for him, even when Stiles’ secrets and lies are out in the open.

Stiles shakes his head. “No, don't. First line remember? Coach won't give you the chance if you slack the first day back, don't let all those lonely training nights be a waste. I certainly didn't sacrifice my partner in crime for you to miss your chance at first line.”

“You don't want me in danger.” Scott says, mirroring Stiles’ earlier words. He knows it's not the whole story, but it is Stiles’ most urgent reason. Scott wishes Stiles wouldn't push him away but a part of him is happy that he doesn't have to get involved.

“No,” Stiles denies, not convincingly. “I know you worked hard for first line, don't miss your chance at greatness. I won't stand for it if you miss it because of me.”

“You don't even believe I can do it,” Scott points out. It had been a subject of annoyance for him, Stiles disbelief that he could make first line. “If I remember right, you said something like; you should all have dreams, even pathetically unrealistic ones.”

“I did not say that, I said the opposite; everyone should have dreams because dreams come true,” Stiles keeps denying, but gives in and looks at him sadly. “Listen Scott, just go to school and if dad comes home healed, I'll be in school. But if not, I'll text you.”

“Okay.” Scott says and drags his way inside, up the stairs, into his room and he tosses his tired body onto his bed without undressing. The scratches on his body clench with pain as they rub against the sheets. He hears the engine of stiles car start, and Scott keeps listening until the car is far enough away he can't hear it.

His mind is whirling with everything that happened, he feels detached from it all, like it isn't quite real. Like a movie or a faded memory. The images of every time he'd meet the fox blends together, making him wonder how he never saw that the fox had acted just like Stiles. Scott feels sick, his stomach clenches painfully as he takes his phone out and turns it on. He pulls up the internet and carefully types out how he expects Kitsune to be spelled, Stiles has taught him enough Japanese though years that he only misses the s. Information floods the screen but Scott can't read it, instead, he stares blankly at the drawing of a fox with many tails.

“ _You're the one always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town._ ” Stiles had said as he took Scott out in the forest. Stiles’ dad might die because Scott's always _bored_. Because he was bitching about it to Stiles.

Scott turns off the phone and lets it fall beside him. “I'm going out of my freaking mind.” he says and falls asleep, his dreams filled with the howls and screeches of monsters.

* * *

**Stiles I**

Stiles is still awake when his dad comes home, it's late and the sun will be rising soon. He's playing every game he has, swapping them out when he gets sick to his stomach after a half hour of play time. His fantasy games sit abandoned on the shelf. Stiles had run right into a wolf mob and panicked, his character died while Stiles had been on the floor trying to calm himself. 

So, he plays easy things, games without wolves like Call of Duty, or an older Zelda game on his old Nintendo. Something easy to calm himself, even if he's shot a lot. 

After a few hours of playing, he hears Stilinski's car drive up to the house, and Stiles bolts from his computer chair. As he runs, tumbles, down the stairs he hears Link dying upstairs but doesn't care. He's in his Dad's face the moment the doors open. “Did you get the Alpha?” Stiles knows the answer already, he can smell how the bite is still infecting his Dad. It just doesn't seem real. 

“No,” Stilinski says and rubs a hand over Stiles’ head, “We did ID the body, Laura Hale, we were able to get her identity from her teeth. Her phone and wallet were missing.” 

Stiles freezes. “Hale, that's- but they're- They haven't been back for years, Beacon Hills isn't their territory anymore. Why would she come back after what happened,” a stray thought catches Stiles’ mind, of two werewolves running from their territory. On the run from hunters, “You knew she was here and didn't tell me. What the hell dad?” 

“Yes, she was investigating the fire.” Stilinski says and slumps down in the couch, there's a fresh bandage around his arm where he'd been bitten. 

”It was an accident,” Stiles denies, it's a well-practiced statement. All supernaturals in Beacon Hills know there was no way it was. Not with the pack of hunters in Beacon Hills at the time. 

Stilinski rubs the bridge of his nose with his bad arm, the bandage is splattered with fresh blood, and the veins around the bandage are turning purple. Stiles flinches from the sight. “You did have Schaar look at that right? He can heal basically everything with those magical unicorn powers. An Alpha bite can’t be _that_ bad. He healed that girl who was turning into a wendigo a few years back and-” 

Stilinski pulls Stiles into an awkward hug, Stiles is still standing so he has to bend over awkwardly. “For God's sake, sit down son, relax, I'm not going to fall over,” He tells Stiles and maneuvers him down on the couch. He runs a hand over the bandage, “I went straight to Dr. Schaar after we took the body in. He's slowed the venom. It's enough time okay? I'm going to find it, you worry about school.” 

Stiles hugs his dad like he's holding onto his last lifeline. In some ways, he is. “I can't lose you too.” saying the word makes it more real, the stank of the bite burns in his nose. It smells like death, like his mom. A sickly sweet and bitter smell that seeps into him and grips painfully at his sense of smell.

* * *

Stiles winces as he hears his alarm go off upstairs, it's 6 am and he's eaten too much sugar after his dad went to sleep. He looks at the mess before him for a second before his attention is drawn to the paper laying in front of him. On it is written two things, Laura Hale and Alpha Werewolf. 

Stiles knows who Laura Hale is, she was the latest Alpha of the Hale line. An Alpha rumoured to be the Alpha of a two-man pack. _How the legendary Hales has fallen_ , is whispered around the world, werewolves with solemn bleakness, vampires and dark creatures with smug satisfaction, and the rest with remembrance. 

The Alpha is someone he doesn't know. It could be Derek Hale, someone who lost his whole pack. Losing their pack can drive werewolves insane, even to kill their remaining pack. The timing just doesn't add up, why now? Years after he would have snapped. So, it was most likely some random omega who'd come into Beacon Hills and smelled the scent of power as Laura had walked around, searching for clues to her family's murder, alone. Without pack. 

He looks up and hides the paper which has more words on it when Dad comes into the living room with sluggish movements. He smells worse than he did yesterday and Stiles has to fight the urge to gag. Stilinski obviously notices so he stares at Stiles with a sad smile and then the mess of candy around him for just a bit longer than what's necessary. “Are all those candy wrappers and chip bags a new form for teenage decoration? Or did you raid the cabinet hoping to gain weight?” The question Stilinski doesn't ask is how Stiles is holding up, but Stiles knows that it’s what he's really asking. And Stilinski knows the answer- it’s laying out over the entire room- which makes the evasion of the real reason a simple distraction. To make Stiles feel like everything's alright. 

Stiles shrugs. “You know, unlike you I can't gain weight, so it's a veggie burger for you again today,” he says, neither denying nor confirming. The cover story he came up with is that he was trying to see how much he could eat before he puked. He is about to tell his dad when a bird screeches outside and Stiles loses his train of thought. “Did you know half our candy had already gone past the expiration date? It tasted normal but the gummy bears were a bit too hard for me, like chewing on bark.” 

Dad stares at him and shakes his head and grabs the lunch Stiles has put out for him. He sniffs at the bag and makes a face of disgust. “Foxes are predators,” Dad says pointedly, it's an old argument -foxes are omnivores but that detail doesn’t help much as they don’t exactly eat salat- and Stiles stares innocently, “We don’t eat rabbit food, we eat the rabbit. And go school, I'll know if you didn't.” he says with a long hard look and only leaves when Stiles tells him that, yes, I will go, I promise. 

He takes the paper from his pocket and looks at it while typing on his phone, he finds an old article about the Hale fire quickly and finds that Derek Hale was 16 when his family died. It was around six years ago so Derek would be 22 to 24. So, Laura did not go looking for who killed her family because Derek was old enough to take care of himself, she had years to investigate but didn't. 

So why now? 

Someone had lured her. Could have been a rivaling pack wanting the famous power of the Hale pack. But some Omega killed her before they could take her power. 

Or it was hunters luring her. Stiles stares at the door. 

Ten minutes into staring at the door his phone beeps with a text. It's from Scott, ‘ _Dude i lost my inhaler yesterday. Did you or your dad find it?_ ’ 

‘ _No.’_ Stiles texts back and thinks about the paper crumbled up in his pocket. ‘ _I'll go find it for you, good luck with lacrosse. When does Dr Deaton come in today?’_ Stiles types out quickly and sends it. 

The reply comes minutes later as Stiles is putting together what will become the least healthy lunch he's eaten in years. ‘ _Why do you want to know when Deaton comes in? It's at 7 am. If you find it put it in my mailbox.’_  

Stiles pretends the last part of the text isn't like that because Scott doesn't want to meet after all that happened yesterday. ‘ _Sure thanks.’_ Stiles sends back and puts the phone away. 

If his dad knew of the food Stiles is making he would have come back from the Sheriff's station in a heartbeat, just to swap their lunches.

* * *

Stiles grabs at his ears as the loud bell screams at him when he opens the door to the animal clinic. Doorbells and the like was only created to torture supernatural creatures, Stiles is certain of it. Coach is a supernatural menace, blowing his whistle all the Goddamn time. Even the normal people on the teams under coach find the whistle to be a menace. 

That man is most likely some kind of demon. 

The reception area is empty but he can hear that Dr. Deaton is already on his way towards Stiles. Deaton looks surprised when he sees Stiles standing in his building, but his usual calm facade is back on in no time. “Mr. Stilinski. What are you doing out of school?” He asks politely. 

“How do I cure an Alpha werewolf’s bite?” 

Stiles knows damn well that Deaton already knows that his Dad was bitten by an Alpha the night before, but Deaton gives him a surprised face and asks, “Where you bitten by an Alpha, Stiles?”

“You know my dad was. Stop evading my questions and answer.” 

“I did not know,” Deaton denies and moves to open the mountain ash barrier separating them. “Come let's talk more in private.

Stiles follows him and shudders when he sees the rows of animal cages though an open door. He makes a wide curve around the door opening, careful not to get too close to the room filled with suffering and anxiety. The animal’s emotions grate on his mind as he passes despite the distance he keeps.

“There are very few ways to pacify the effects of werewolf bites,” Deaton says as he slips a book about feline anatomy from the metal bookcase along the wall of the room he led Stiles into. He places the book on a table and it flickers, becoming an old and abused looking book.

“I don't want to pacify it, I want it gone. Get it? Gone like how when you poop the poop is gone from your body.”

Deaton just smiles vaguely and flickers through the pages and stops on a page with a werewolf drawing and a language Stiles has never seen before, “Most recorded instances of kitsune or other slightly malevolent creatures being cured were from beta and omega bites. But this one story came to mind, it's about a Vampire clan in war with a pack of Werewolves, then a werewolf and a vampire on opposing ends fell in love, defying some of the most sacred rules of the wolves.”

“Werewolf and vampire Romeo and Juliet, got it.” Stiles says impatiently.

Deaton trails his finger down the words. “That's where the comparison ends. The Alpha of the werewolf pack but the vampire when he found them together. The werewolf in love with the vampire tried to cure the bite for seven days until it was almost too late. But the werewolf killed the Alpha in revenge, wanting their lover avenged. But when the werewolf became an Alpha it knew it could cure the vampire, so it drained the poison from the vampire, curing its lover. They created peace between their families which would last for centuries, it’s the legend of why werewolves and vampires don’t actually go to full out war despite the uneasy relationship.”

“Great, that will help me. I just need to find the Alpha and hope it knows how to do something from an old legend. Also, my father isn't exactly a vampire either, they're dark creatures and dad’s _well_ into the lighter spectrum.”

Deaton looks at him, unimpressed by his comments and closes his book, it transforms back into an anatomy book the moment it stops touching the table. “When beta werewolves cure their bites, they absorb the venom like they would with pain. I would think it is the same process with Alphas, but I cannot be sure as no Alpha has successfully cured their bites in recorded history.”

“So, you're useless. Can't you like- I don't know- feel where the Alpha is or something? Druids have that creepy connection to werewolves.”

“I can assure you, Stiles, that druids do not have a _creepy connection to werewolves_ , we merely have ancestors that gave the wolves the ability to transform back. The druids-” Deaton suddenly decides that he's told enough about himself, “Sheriff Stilinski has about two months left, after that, there will be nothing any of us can do.”

“A literal deadline,” Stiles says and his mind races, two months aren’t a lot of time. “Are there anymore legends I should look at?” he asks, somewhat desperate. If the supernatural world told Stiles anything it's that legends are based in fact.

Deaton gives him a speculative look. “I do have more books about werewolf legends, and I do recall reading about…”

“And? Come on dude, be less vague, my dad's life is at stake here.” Stiles smiles something that feels disgusting on his face.

Deaton nods. “Come back tomorrow Stiles and I'll have a few books for you and your father. He is aware you’re here right?” he hands over the book with the story about the vampire and werewolf, “You can start with this one. I'll call your dad when you've gone, I do have an agreement with him to call when you're sent here.”

“That’s only for when Scott puts me here.” Stiles snaps back embarrassed, Dad had called Deaton to make that agreement after Scott had taken him to the vet the second time.

“Is it?” Deaton, always vague, and Stiles is annoying him. The man should just stop being _retired_ no one with any speck of supernatural abilities could ever _retire_.

Stiles stares and blinks slowly, evening out the groove between his eyebrows. “Right, I'll just leave then, before dad gets here with his handcuffs.”

Stiles leaves the clinic quickly, book tugged into his armpit. He throws the book in the backseat beside his bat and drives towards the preserve. He has an inhaler to find.

The wind is coming from the direction of where Laura’s body had been. Stiles steps from his jeep, and onto twigs and leaves, as he breathes in. He can still smell her but another, unknown, scent is close by. Werewolf. Stiles sneaks a hand into the back seat without looking and picks the metal bat that has long been the physical representation of his first tail. With the bat in hand, Stiles begins the long walk towards the two scents, one of death and decay and one filled with anger and sorrow.

It takes maybe ten minutes to find the spot and the other scent turns out to belong to a guy in his twenties with dark hair and thick eyebrows, he looks somewhat familiar. “Hey-” Is all Stiles manages to say before the guy jumps at him with claws out. His eyes are green and unshifted. Not telling if he's an Alpha or a beta. Stiles swings out with his bat, as he does his best not to be gutted by rough but sharp claws. The werewolf is close enough that the bat hits first, slamming into his shoulder. There's a painful crack and Stiles makes a face as the Werewolf growls at him, all teeth as he continues on without a flinch. Snapping his jaw at Stiles.

Stiles runs back and waves his bat in the werewolf face, but he just grabs for it, and _oh god_ that doesn't feel nice. “I didn't kill her!” He shouts on a whim, and begs to the old kitsune spirits, that the guy looks similar to Laura is because he's actually a very angry and murderous Derek Hale. The Werewolf ignores him and swipes thick claws over Stiles’ arm as he flings his bat from him and pushes Stiles up a tree. “Stop trying to kill me and listen! I'm trying to find out who killed her too!” Stiles shouts as he pushes at him.

The grip on Stiles’ arm gives just enough not to be painful. “Who are you?” he demands.

“Stiles Stilinski. You're Derek Hale, right?” Stiles says but yelps as claws dig into his shoulder.

“How do you know my name?” His eyes flash _blue_ , why are his eyes _blue_?

 _Doesn't matter_ , his brain tells him as his mouth begins. “Hey- hey- You look like Laura- OW- stop clawing at me dammit! You're her brother, of course physical likeness makes me think you're Derek! Please let me go?” The last part comes out as a whisper.

“Give me a reason.” He growls and that's a lot of teeth.

Stiles thinks fast and lets his aura out, letting the oddly shaped- furry like- energy merge into a fox around him. “See? If I did it you'd be Alpha or I'd be an Alpha, but I'm definitely not a wolfman. Foxman sure but I've never been all that wolfy.”

Derek steps back carefully, crossing his arms as he looks like he hates the world. Stiles uses the opportunity to slide very carefully away from the tree and over to his bat. “You're a kitsune?” He looks slightly confused at his own statement, “Why do you care?”

Stiles picks his bat up. “The Alpha that- that killed your sister also bit my dad, so why don't we help each other,” He says because Derek will want the Alpha dead, and if Deaton's legend is true, Stiles knows he'll need help getting it to cure his dad. “It's a win, win.” 

Derek scoffs. “There it is.” 

“There what is?” Stiles snaps, and his hand tightens around the handle of his bat, he kind of wants to hit Derek and maybe dislocate his jaw. 

Bad Stiles. 

“It's all the same with you kitsune, vampires and elves. You don't care about what happens to people around you unless you're involved.” 

“Oh wow, dude,” Stiles says blandly and claps slowly, “That is an impressive display of werewolf bias you're giving me, tell me more. It's not like my dad has been protecting Beacon Hills since you and your sister left Beacon Hills- it was your territory by the way- unprotected all those years ago. No not like that at all.”

Derek looks annoyed, and there's a bit of shame hidden in there. Stiles does feel somewhat satisfied to see the expression on his face. The guilt lasts a second before anger strikes Derek’s face like a lightning bolt hitting the earth, Stiles should have kept his mouth shut. “You don't get to talk about my sister like that.”

Stiles swallows at the fury on the werewolf’s face, he looks like he'd like nothing more than to rip Stiles’ throat out with his teeth. Derek's claws slide out with a flick and Stiles takes a big step back with big round eyes. “Sorry dude,” He says but doesn't really mean it, they left Beacon Hills, but he does feel sorry for Derek. So, his heart stays steady. “But the point still stands, we would get the Alpha faster if we work together. I know Beacon Hills, it's changed a lot in six years- basically a supernatural hot spot now. Oh, and my dad probably wants to talk to you.”

Derek grunts and his werewolf-ness disappears. “Why?”

Stiles frowns. “Why Beacon Hills changed? Well, it started with this family of unicorns that moved here and then they told some friends who told other friends that-”

Derek interrupts. “Why your father wants to talk.” he growls, his eyes flash.

“Ah,” Stiles lets out nervously and slightly turns so that if Derek lost control he'd have a better shot at him, “He's the Sheriff and you're Laura's family.” Derek clenches his jaw at the word family and Stiles decides he should really not try to team up with a werewolf. They’re scary.

“Okay.” Derek says and _looks_ at Stiles.

“Man of few words I see,” Stiles says and is about to lead Derek to his jeep when he remembers. “Oh, hey have you seen an inhaler because my friend Scott dropped one yesterday and those things are really expensive. People with asthma are clearly being used if you ask me, the prices are way too high for something that keeps people alive. But they need it, so they have to buy it regardless of the insane costs, it's a hustle I-” an object flies at his face and he attempts to catch it but he ends up hitting it a few times before catching it with clumsy hands. Stiles stares at Derek and hopes he feels how unimpressed Stiles is with being interrupted again. He is, however, happy that he does not have to search the forest for the inhaler.

“Was he bit?” Derek asks, obviously unimpressed by Stiles glare and awkward attempt at catching the inhaler.

“What no.” Stiles scoffs, “My dad and I protected him.” Stiles waves his bat menacingly in the air.

“Really?” Derek raises an eyebrow at Stiles’ bat and doesn't seem to believe him.

“Dude,” Stiles says with fake bravo and twirls the bat, it glows a faint purple for effect, “I am one badass Kitsune.”

“Don't call me that.” Derek says stiffly, clearly uncomfortable with the word.

“Whatever you say dude.” Stiles replies, he's not one to turn down some chaos.

Derek growls.

* * *

 _'Found your inhaler and a very angry werewolf. how did lacrosse go?’_ Stiles types out with one hand as his other doodles a gross drawing of Laura Hales upper body. Downstairs Derek is talking to his dad, Stiles half listens to the conversation as he puts down everything he's theorized about the Alpha.

 _'Didn't make it’_ Says the text from Scott and before Stiles can type a nice message about hope and overcoming your weakness, his phone beeps again. _‘There's a new girl, her name is Allison.’_

Stiles peeks up at the last part. _‘Is she cute?’_ He sends back, Scott wouldn’t have mentioned her unless he took an interest.

 _‘She's nice.’_ Scott sends instead and follows up with, _‘She's already friends with Lydia.’_

_‘She must be hot then, beautiful people herd together.’_

_'You were right about lacrosse, didn't make it thirty minutes in.’_

 Stiles groans. _‘Cute girl Scott, I want information on this girl you found, who is it i have to compete with for your precious attention?’_

Stiles looks down at his drawing and decides it has enough detail, just undetailed enough to not keep him up at night. It's not all that good, her face is shaped like an egg and her hair looks like a bird’s nest. Derek would claw his throat out if he saw it. So Stiles pins the drawing to a small board he had found and connects it to a cartoonish drawing of the Alpha with a red string.

“...Scott?” Stiles hears Stilinski say and peeps up, turning in his chair to listen, “He was almost bitten.”

“Yes,” Derek replies. “If what you and Stiles say is true, then the Alpha will come for Scott.” Stiles’ heart leaps into his throat.

Not Scott.

“I’ve never met Scott, but even if he would make a terrible werewolf, the Alpha might have _chosen_ Scott to be pack.”

“That doesn’t seem like normal werewolf behaviour.”

“It is for born werewolves who become Alphas,” Derek says. “It’s why we prepare the next generation of Alphas for years.”

“You _want_ to bite kids? That’s-” Stilinski says and chokes on his words when he hears Stiles snickering at the way his wording sounded.

Derek huffs, somewhat amused but mostly annoyed. “You want a _pack_ , a strong pack. Humans can be part of a pack, they just don’t give the same kind of strength as the werewolf members.”

“So Scott became pack when the Alpha chose him? You can force a pack bond with a human?” Stiles didn’t know that, he knows of the forced bond between an Alpha and their betas, but humans are another _species entirely_. An Alpha can force members of other packs to join them, they can take unwilling omegas and add them, bite people and then add them against their will. Sometimes the only way to escape a forced bond is to die or to kill the Alpha responsible.

It’s uncommon, but not all that rare.“It’s more complicated than with wolves, but yes. Scott can still reject the bond, it’s easier for humans.”

“It’s more complicated than with wolves, but yes. Scott can still reject the bond, it’s easier for humans.”

“Can you show him how?” Stilinski asks.

Derek grunts annoyed. “Sweaty teenagers aren’t really on my to do list right now.” Stiles growls unintentionally at his words and the pen in his hand snaps in two.

He puts the two parts down with shivering hands.

“It can’t take more than ten minutes Derek, if you do it now Scott won’t be a problem later.”

Stiles can almost feel the asshole thinking about it, weighing his options. “I’ll get it done.”

 _You better,_ Stiles thinks bitterly and jerks with surprise when his phone beeps. _‘Dude don’t say that, its creepy. I walked into her on my way to practice, got all her books everywhere but she wasn't mad. She was at practice and helped me find my other inhaler. Thx for finding the other one, I ate some dirt but its clean now.’_

Stiles slowly grins at his phone, _‘Seems like you’ve been doing nothing but eat dirt lately.’_

Scott doesn't reply and Stiles counts it as a victory. Stiles is engrossed in drawing pictures for his newly made murder board an hour later when Scott texts back.

_'How is your dad?’_

_‘What you'd expect, not well. He’s already begun forgetting things.’ Like where the forks are._ It starts out with the smaller things before he begins forgetting the important things, where he lives, Stiles name, his work, who he is, who _Stiles_ is.

 _‘I'm sorry.’_ Scott sends a few minutes later. This time Stiles does not reply.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on this story since season 6a started as the idea for it wouldn't leave again, so I hope some of you guys will enjoy it!


	2. A vampire bar is a great place for werewolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott's found out Stiles is a kitsune, Stilinski was bitten by the Alpha and is dying, Stiles is trying to find a cure for Alpha bites, Scott might be bonded to the Alpha, and Derek is out for blood.

 

  **Scott II**

Scott doesn't know what to make of Derek Hale.

“Stilinski sent me to make sure you're not bonded to the Alpha.” Derek says as he throws Scott's lacrosse stick, he'd used to attack the werewolf with, on his bed.

And how do you reply to that?

“That's great, uh Derek, but couldn't it have waited a few hours?“ Scott's exhausted and he really wants some sleep on everything that happened yesterday night. Another werewolf wasn't on his list of wishes.

“Sit.”

Scott sits at the command and Derek tilts his head to the side and glares at him. “Stop being afraid.”

Like that's easy after he saw what one werewolf could do. “I'm not afraid.” Derek snorts but doesn't say anything further. So, Scott waits for what the werewolf is going to do, but he's just standing before him, staring. “Is something supposed to happen?“

Derek's eyes roll, “I'm feeling for the pack bond.”

 _Right, whatever the hell that is._ Scott thinks somewhat sarcastically and smooths out wrinkles in his bedding to pass time. The shallow cuts on his hands are closing, that's good, but he should probably do something with the larger ones. He didn't even wash his scratches and scrapes, mom would be disappointed.

“It's there.” Derek says and doesn't elaborate.

“Should I be feeling something?”

Derek scoffs, like Scott's dirt under his shoe. The dirt he's dragged into Scott's room. “No, not when you haven't accepted it.”

“But you said the Alpha werewolf forced it on me? Wouldn't it make it useless?” Scott's shooting blindfolded at this point, he really has no idea what he's talking about, but he's watched shows and played games with supernatural things in them. So, he feels he does have a chance.

“Another Alpha can't create a bond with someone bonded and the current Alpha gets something from it anyway. Now concentrate, feel the bond and disconnect it.”

“How am I supposed to do that!? I'm not a freaking werewolf!” Scott whispers harshly, he wants to shout, to protest, to be difficult.

He's had a shit night.

But it would wake his mom.

“Feel.”

So Scott closes his eyes and _feels_ around for whatever it is Derek wants him to feel. Everything feels normal, his limbs, heartbeat, fingers, everything. He's about to tell Derek that he must have felt wrong because Scott can't feel anything. But then he feels it.

Like a clawed hand reaching all the way around him, keeping him down on the bed, unable to move with the sensation of piercing red eyes behind him. Waiting for a twitch of a finger so it can attack. There are broken chains over him but they're not holding him in place like the hand, they're wrapping around Scott and the presence of the Alpha. It's not holding on him in a death grip filled with anger, but with desperation, like Stiles had once held Scott after his mom had died.

One of despair.

Scott could never have let go of Stiles that day, even when the hug began hurting. He wants to hug back, to embrace the feeling to comfort and heal.

But it's not the same, he tells himself as the werewolf behind him becomes like Stiles in his head. It's not Stiles, it's a murderer who killed a girl and is killing Stiles’ dad.

Scott rips at the hand, tearing and biting. The hand recoils but goes deeper when it comes back, tightening it's hug on him as Scott struggles against it. His heart smashes in his chest, making him breathless as he's squeezed by the presence. Scott hates it. Hates how it could try and force Scott to bond with it. How it would use Stiles to gain control of him. That it bit Stilinski.

Most of all because it's a dangerous monster.

The hand flinches away and Scott is sucked into his room, gasping over his bed. He ignores Derek who's staring at him and grapples for his inhaler. He's only able to breathe again after a few puffs, his lungs too weak to bring enough down to them in one go.

“Being bitten would have stopped that.” He says, and it feels mocking.

“I don't want to be a werewolf.” Scott says and Derek snorts.

“You're actually telling the truth.” Derek tilts his head but shrugs and goes for his window.

“That's it?” Scott asks and Derek just nods and leaps out, landing with a soft thud out in the grass.

Scott feels strangely empty as he watches the werewolf run away in the streetlights.

* * *

 

**Derek I**

“Where are we going?” Stiles grins as he slips into the passenger seat of Derek's car and throws his backpack into the back seat. Derek scowls and pushes at Stiles’ shoulder, pushing him back out the door.

“You're not coming,” Derek says and Stiles just jumps right back into the car with an unapologetic grin. Derek's eyes flash with blue and he growls at the defiance, “Get out.”

Stiles makes a face. “No, we're helping each other remember? It includes the excruciatingly hard tasks of telling where you're going. Sharing is caring as they say.”

Derek glowers at him and turns away to fiddle with the grey GPS that bleeps as he turns it on. “Go to school.” it's 8 Am and Stiles and his overpacked square backpack should be _far_ away from Derek, letting him work alone. Like he prefers.

“Nah,” Stiles says unfazed by the glare Derek sends and looks at the address he's is typing into the GPS. Stiles grins in the corner of his eye, mischievous, “Besides, you're not going to find The Cerise that way, it's not on any map dude.”

“Don't call me that.” Derek says automatically and puts the GPS down, he looks over at Stiles.

“It's a supernatural bar, of course it's not going to be on a map. The address is right but it's enchanted- like Harry Potter- kinda- no, not now that I think about it. You can only find it if you know where it is, if you know the name, and is willingly let in the first time by someone who has been there before. Since it’s four years old, you couldn't have visited before, and lucky you. I have.”

Derek stares at him and reluctantly turns on his car as Stiles shuts his door. “You just said it wasn't on any maps.”

“Maps,” Stiles says with a slight pause. “Doesn't mean it has no address, your GPS would just tell you it doesn't exist.”

Derek growls softly but follows Stiles’ directions without complaint besides the occasional, “Shut up.” When Stiles talks a bit too fast, talking about too many things. He heard the words cats and reproduction used once and did his best to tune Stiles out. It wasn't as effective as he wanted.

They stop by a normal looking clothes store, outside the windows is a sign saying, ‘Clothes for the normal!’ the text is accompanied by artful drawings of people doing normal stuff like reading and cooking. The building is white and squished between a small bar and a restaurant on the other side of an alley. The sign over the door of the shop says its name is _The Crimson._

Derek looks over at Stiles and tries desperately to remove the image of cat’s reproductive systems from his mind as he wonders why the front would have a name so similar to the real one. The teen is grinning smugly as he goes, and stands too close to him, holding out his hand.

“Give me your hand,” He says like he's getting a bag of chocolate and not claws in his eyes. “I know it's so awkward.” Derek would trust his words if not for the shit eating grin on the kitsune's face.

Derek reluctantly gives his hand and ignores that the physical contact feels good.

 

It's just another part of his werewolf instinct.

Something he can ignore.

Then the store changes, slowly, like a Rube Goldberg machine. Where the outside was white before, it's bleeding a deep red that stands out among the other shops and bars lining the street. The sign out front flows over images until the people doing normal activities are replaced by supernaturals hiding out in their natural environments. The rows of clothes inside the store fall over one after another and reveal tables, sofas, chairs and a bar in the far end. The windows tones red to shield those inside from the sun.

The sign above the door says _The Cerise_.

Stiles releases his hand, “So, you might not be too agreeable with this place.” he says, looking up at him with a snicker in his eyes.

“Why?”

“Well,” Stiles says somewhat smugly, “werewolves have some of the strongest senses, _all_ five of them are the cutting edge. At least that's what I've heard, but I'm not going to ask if your palms are more sensitive in wolf form than regular human form.”

“You just did.” Derek points out and Stiles makes a face like Derek is the strangest thing in the world.

“Come on dude!” He wines.

Derek stares at him, there's something wrong with that kid, or maybe all teenagers are like that now. “...They do feel more.” he admits and Stiles lights up with childish delight, it's a good look on him.

“That's so cool.”

Derek snorts, “Say that again when you're the werewolf doing the dishes.” because that can be very unpleasant, other things are just as unpleasant, like touching anything burnt. Werewolves can, if they practice enough, see shapes almost perfectly with their hands. Derek has once heard of a blind Alpha who could touch the cheek or an arm of one of his pack and determine who was who by the texture of their skin.

Stiles makes a face of disgust. “That's disgusting Derek,” he says and stalks towards the door, it takes Derek a lot of willpower not to grab Stiles hand again. “I know the bartender. He's a Vampire- so no werewolf superiority okay? Be chill or you'll get kicked. His name is Vlad- I know, stereotypes, right?”

“Okay.” Derek replies with a faint nod and shoves his hands into his pockets. He looks down the street as Stiles pushes the door open in front of him and a faint bell tingles, it's just faint enough that the supernaturals inside aren't disturbed by it. Every human on the street seem to notice the bar, but none of them show interest in coming in. The room inside is abuzz with talk, and the seats are packed with supernatural creatures, mermaids, vampires, centaurs, manticores, there is even a shifted unicorn, and at least five other species; Derek has never seen so many creatures in one place without fighting. When both Stiles and Sheriff Stilinski had told him that Beacon Hills had changed, Derek hadn't thought much about it, but with the evidence right in front of him, it was hard to ignore how the town had prospered. Not even New York has as a diverse population of supernaturals, despite there being very few to no hunters in the city.

Stiles leads him to the bar where a pale man with orange eyes stands drying a glass, he's dressed in a dark red form-fitted suit and his teeth are visibly pointed as he talks. “Hello Stiles,” He says smoothly as he sees the kitsune, his voice has an accent to it Derek has never heard before and the words are pronounced oddly despite the elegance in his voice. “The regular?” He asks and leaves to find whatever the regular is before Stiles can even reply.

“Come on sit Derek.” Stiles says as he sits down a stool from a blonde vampire. He has no heartbeat, setting Derek on edge.

Derek glowers at him but does sit down on the stool beside Stiles, the seats are weirdly comfortable like they were made for him specifically.

The bartender comes back with a glass of orange juice and places it down in front of Stiles who takes it happily. The vampire turns to Derek with an uninterested glance, “And who are you? My name is Vlad, I am the bartender and owner of The Cerise. Welcome, what can I get you?”

“We need information.” Stiles says for him with a nod, and a somewhat goofy smile on his face, as he doesn't reveal who Derek is.

Making it Derek's decision.

“Oh?” Vlad looks interested then and he puts down the glass in his hand. “Information? Of course, everything here has a price, but tell me and I will tell you what I want in return.” The vampire's eyes gleam predatorily as he stares at Derek.

“Laura Hale,” Derek says after a few seconds. “She came here some weeks ago, I need to know why.”

Vlad nods, his eyes gleaming with thoughts.

“Awww! The mutt lost his Alpha bitch, didn't he?! Do we need to call animal service?” The blonde and red-eyed vampire sitting a stool from Stiles sneer gleefully. The vampire lean over and pushes Stiles back to better see Derek. Stiles squeaks and he almost falls off his stool but manages to grab the seat to steady himself. Derek growls at the vampire and fists his claws. They retract.

“You need a bone to gnaw on? Unfortunately, the skeletons left a bit ago-”

The vampire stops his rant with a yelp as the bartender casually pours some water onto his hand. The hand sizzles under the water and splinters, burning the skin away. On the small bottle in Vlad’s hand, it says Holy water. “Please do not be rude to other guests, the bathroom is that way,” Vlad says with a cold gaze and points the bottle in the direction of a door that leads to the bathroom.

The vampire hisses, his face changing as he turns to Vlad with his teeth out. Vlad blinks and splashes more holy water on the vampire and his face blisters, streaming with burns. “Leave,” Vlad says and the vampire complies this time. Sulking out.

The whole bar is silent, all eyes are on the three of them as Stiles ducks his head and slurps annoyingly on his juice. “Sorry about that. Fights are common and I prefer to deal with them peacefully.” Vlad says and puts the bottle back under the counter.

 _That was peaceful_?

Conversation starts up among the supernaturals again. A group is still starring, they're all vampires with blood red eyes that gleam with anger. There is no scent, heartbeat to tell what they're thinking behind those eyes.

“Awesome.” Stiles whispers in awe and sips at his juice as he stares at the spot the vampire had been sitting with what Derek can only decipher as hunger.

Vlad pats Stiles on his head like you would a pet and looks at Derek. “Laura Hale right?” he asks and Derek nods. “She was here Thursday asking around for the group who had volunteered to protect her uncle. From my understanding she did not find anything on that end, but I will write down the names for you just in case. She also talked to a magic-kind, but they were disguised with magic.” Vlad makes an offhand gesture and shrugs before leaning over to get closer to Derek, his orange eyes sharp.

“She did, however, talk with several customers about the Hale fire and the hunters that stayed here six years ago,” Vlad stops speaking and fishes a small price of paper from underneath the counter. He draws a form with symbols around it before finishing with an uneven line around it. Derek flinched when Vlad turned it to him, recognising the symbol. “She was looking for someone with a pendant like this.”

“Okay.” Derek says, voice rough and Vlad turns the drawing away and began putting down names beside it. Good, that gives Derek more to go off.

Vlad points at one row of names and then the next. “These were involved in protecting Peter Hale and these were the other people Laura had been looking for.”

“Okay.” Derek says again and practically jumps from his seat as he grabs the paper.

Vlad’s hand is on Derek's arm in an instant and Derek growls. “You still owe me, information is not free,” Vlad says, trapping Derek by not setting his price before giving out the information. He let's go, leaning back away from the counter. “Is Laura Hale dead?” He asks invasively.

Derek fights the urge to gut the vampire and growls out a, “Yes.”

“Did you kill her?” He asks next. Stiles gulps down the last of his juice and pushes the empty glass away.

“No. Why do you think I'm here?” he snarls.

Vlad holds up his hands. “No need to be aggressive,” He says in what is supposed to be calming but Derek just wants to kill the vampire more. The anger he feels let's him centre himself and withdraw his claws. “Why is Stiles here and not in school? Better yet, why did the Protector not show you the Cerise himself?” it takes Derek a small moment to realise the vampire is talking about Stilinski, the supernatural protectors are usually called Guardians.

Stiles freezes in his spot. “Hey! I have all the qualifications to show him this place, besides dad's busy with work. And I have something I want too.”

“I see,” Vlad says and nods while Derek glances at the Kitsune confused.

“is there anywhere to get books on blood magic, sacrificial magic, and-” Stiles begins flippantly like he doesn't know the horror of what he’s asking.

“-That is dark magic, Stiles,” Vlad says quietly with an edge sharp enough to cut and glances from Stiles to Derek in a split second before focusing on Stiles, connecting something in his mind. “this is very unlike you.”

“Look- do you have anything or not? It's not like I'm going to use them.” Stiles lies smoothly with a pitch in his face.

Derek doesn't care if Stiles does dark magic if it will help him get the Alpha and revenge for his sister. The more power at Derek's side the better. And the part of his consciousness that tells him it’s a bad idea, that's Stiles is just a kid, is easily squashed.

“I do,” Vlad confirms, as he looks at Derek as if he could read his thoughts. Like he wanted _Derek_ to tell Stiles not to do dark magic. Derek didn't even know kitsune could use magic. “Is the Protector dying?”

Stiles’ jaw clench visibly. “Yes,” he says.

“Your mother and her apprentice had a few dark spell books and grimoires they took off criminals. I assume you do not want a meeting with Grey, so I suggest looking into your mother's old things.”

“Thanks for nothing-” Stiles says and slips from the stool, “Come on, let's leave.” he says to Derek who is just happy to be leaving, the stares of the odd supernatural is getting to him.

“What would your mother think Stiles?“ Vlad says behind them and Stiles jerks to a stop like he'd been slapped.

Stiles turns and blinks at the vampire. “That I'm looking into dark magic so I can defend against it.”

“If that is all, you may leave. Unless you want a drink?” Vlad says after a beat and gestures to the bar and the rows of various kinds of alcohol behind him, some human some supernatural and some bottles smell like they have fermented blood in them. Stiles shakes his head and heads for the door, seemingly just as happy as Derek is to leave.

“What was that?” Derek asks when they're outside again.

“There are books in my mom's old collection,” Stiles says and grins against the sharp sunlight. “The bastard.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Is your mother a bastard?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Stiles laughs and tugs along the street as he begins talking.

Derek goes to follow when a hand snaps out and flicks Derek to the side, throwing him into the alley by the bar. He crashes into a dumpster head first and topples it over, spilling trash over the ground. His head swims as he looks up at the blurry figure that throws Stiles to the ground next to him. The red hoodie is easy to pick out in the shade of the trash bags Stiles is clumsily leaning on.

Derek blinks his blurry vision away as Stiles rolls around to face him, his brown eyes going vide and flashing pale purple for just a second. There's blood flowing slowly from a small wound on his forehead. “What the hell is your problem!?” Stiles shouts at the vampire standing smugly before them. It's the blonde one from the Cerise, half his face is covered in angry red blisters. Derek is about to haul himself to his feet, but his body is sluggish like his strength is being drained as he sits.

“My problem is that werewolves think they're better than us.” The bloodsucker snaps and hauls Stiles to his feet. Derek can see his control slipping as Stiles yelps with surprise and a tinge of fear. The vampire grits his sharpening teeth and punches Stiles in the eye.

Stiles screeches and pushes at the vampire's face. “Come on dude, don't be racist,” Stiles groans between the blood running down into his mouth. He shifts his attention to claw at the vampire's arm as it holds him in place, his human nails doing nothing as he makes odd noises of protest. “I'm not even a werewolf.” he says, throwing Derek under the metaphorical bus.

“I know. I can smell it.” the vampire says, his expression ugly as he squeezes Stiles arm. Stiles grits his teeth and stares at Derek. Pleading, Derek thinks and rushes to his feet.

A dizzy spell hits him and Derek's staggers to the side and leans on a dumpster. The vampire had done something to him. “Let him go!” he snarls, “It's me you want.”

The vampire looks past him and hums as he looks back to Stiles. “I've never had Kitsune blood before.” he says before ripping the sleeve of Stiles hoodie and biting down on his forearm. Stiles screeches inhumanely before the vampire's burnt hand clamps down on his mouth to drown out the noise. Stiles bends back awkwardly to escape the hand but the vampire shoves Stiles against the wall, trapping him. The vampire stays like that a good few seconds, moaning lightly as blood escapes the corners of his mouth, running down to Stiles’ elbow before dripping down.

Derek snaps and his claws fly out over the man's face, nearly tearing his nose off. He skitters back to avoid Derek and let's go of Stiles who fall to the ground in a heap of limbs. The vampire looks back at Derek as his face begins to change, turning ugly. His lower face is smeared with blood and the grin on his lips is predatory.

“Derek!” Stiles shouts weakly as Derek drives towards the vampire and rips dark blood from his chest. The anger Derek feels at what the dead man before him had done, makes him stronger and a spark of poetic revenge let's Derek dig his fangs into the disgusting dead flesh of the vampire’s forearm. It's a horrible taste but the panicked face of the vampire as he realises Derek left venom behind is worth it.

“ _You FUCKING mutt! You bit me!?_ ” The vampire screeches and jumps away from Derek, further into the alley. His red eyes glow in the deeper shadows as black crawls up the veins in his arm. “That can kill me!“

Stiles laughs disturbingly from his place at the wall, there's glee in his voice. He pushes himself to his feet and stumbles to stand, watching the vampire hiss. “You should have thought about that before you but me. I'd hate to sound like Draco Malfoy, but do even you know who my dad is?”

When the vampire doesn't reply, his body taut with anticipation of a fight and pain. Stiles continues with a wicked smile on his face, “I'll give you a hint. There's two kitsune in Beacon Hill.” His voice becomes muddled towards the end and Derek can see dark spots forming on his vision.

The vampire goes still, his fingers twitch before he's in front of them, hands flashing out for their hearts. Aiming to kill. Derek snarls and pushes Stiles out if the way as he moves, snapping his teeth over the dead man's shoulder, tearing at the flesh. The vampire grabs Derek's head and crashes his own into his forehead, breaking the dizzy spell out again. His vision swims and the last thing he sees is Stiles swinging at the vampire, with something glowing between the fingers of his fist.

He's out cold before he hits the ground.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are three “major” OCs in the story and you've hereby been introduced two of them, if not just by name. There was a fourth one but I cut him out as the storyline involving him took up too much space (as he was a main character, while the others are side characters, but I've been rewriting the story plan and he just doesn't fit in, he was a distraction I guess.) I will still go on with setups for it but it will most likely only be addressed if I make the continuation I've been thinking about the last couple of days.


	3. Being a slow healer is annoying

**Derek II**

 When Derek opens his eyes again, the pain is gone. The world clears around him as his eyes adjust to the light. Stiles is sitting a meter away from him with a black eye, blood clumsily wiped from his face, and a piece of beaten and bloody metal in his hands. Stiles’ whole body is shivering as his heart pounds against his ribcage. “Oh, thank God, you healed,” he says and, unnecessarily, helps Derek up in a sitting position. Stiles takes in his confused stare and shows him the bloody piece of metal. “This was uh- stuck in you. I had to pull it out before you could heal. Then it healed over and small pieces began crawling out like parasitic metal lumps.” He looks sick, pale and a bit green as he looks away from the blood around him.

“Thank you,” Derek says after a while and Stiles wipes away blood flowing down his forehead. Derek frowns. “Why aren't you healing?”

“That's complicated. Now come on, we need to go before that guy comes back with all his buddies to murders us,” Stiles’ voice is light but his heart is beating like a drum and his right arm, the one with the bite, is twitching. Stiles climbs to his feet using a dumpster but almost instantly falls. Derek catches him and Stiles grins. “Carry me, my saviour,” He says and Derek stares. “I'm kidding, we had this play a year ago and I remember Kaitlyn sayin- doesn't matter. Just help me. Once we're far enough from The Cerise the Notice Me Not will fade. So, look normal- well as normal as those serial killer eyebrows are.”

Derek lets the comment go through one ear and out the other and moves Stiles into a hold that hopefully makes him look like a drunk who's just puked in an alley. Stiles rambles on as they walk into the street and over to his car parked a few meters away.

People give them a helpful wide berth and luckily only one person seems to notice the blood on their clothes. Once he's maneuvered Stiles into the passenger seat of his car, while the kitsune rambles on about ruined seats that Derek wholeheartedly agrees with, he takes a minute or two to find the bandages he knows Laura always had in her car. He's never put bandages on someone before so the result is clumsy and maybe a bit too tight.

“I'll Google the names,” Stiles tells him and holds out his hand. Derek reluctantly hands over his list of names and scans it once before bursting into laughter. “I knew that guy was fucking shady! OH, Scott's going to love this! I can't wait to see Harris’ face! Finally, after all these years I've got blackmail!”

“What?”

Stiles blinks. “He's an asshole,” he says like that's a lot of explanation. “Do you have a pen?“

“Glove department.” Stiles thanks him and begins writing by Adrian Harris’s name.

A few minutes later Stiles is looking up the other names and writing down whatever information he's deemed important. “Do we need to know that Miller is part of a cult?“ He asks as Derek stops his car in the Stilinski driveway, Sheriff Stilinski isn't home.

“Depends.” Derek tells him with a roll of his eyes and snatches up Stiles backpack from the back seat. It's heavier than he anticipated and almost drops it right. He feels it over discreetly, it's several thick books, old and magical if the smells are anything to go by. Magic has a _distinctive_ smell, Derek can't say it's a nice one.

“On what?” Stiles says obnoxiously, “How much orgy they do? Because the website is very informative, do you want the schedule?”

“On its relevance!” Derek snarls and Stiles just laugh when a woman walking with her child looks up at them with hate when her kid asks what an orgy is.

First thing Stiles does when they're in is to kidnap a juice bottle from the fridge, flop down on his couch and snuggle with the plastic bottle. Derek heads for the bathroom when he's sure Stiles is safely on the couch, and he takes a quick shower to get the blood off. He takes a towel pours water over it, squeezing it until it's not soaked but still wet, and heads for the living room. Stiles thanks him and sets the juice to the side and begins cleaning off the blood on his face and arm. The bite on his arm is raw like it's infected and they both stare at it for longer than what is probably necessary.

“You're not coming with me again.” Derek says, he needs to say it.

Stiles splutters and spits juice out over the coffee table. “What!? why!?” He quickly puts down the bottle and it sways before falling over, rolling towards Stiles who grabs it before it can hit the floor. “You can't just decide that for someone! Don't you want my help?!”

He does want Stiles’ help, he's a lone omega going against an Alpha. “Look at yourself!” Derek growls, and can't Stiles see that he'll get himself killed. Derek can't be responsible for more death. “You're _still_ _hurt_! It's been an hour, and you're not healed, I don't know how you're even _awake_ right now.”

“I can stay awake because you're here! Your misery feeds my power to stay awake!” Stiles grins and Derek wants to punch him before his face shifts to serious. “I'm not giving up, I'll continue even if it's alone. I can't let my dad die and that's how it is, accept my help or be the Alpha fodder like you're trying to be. _I_ can do it alone, but you'll just get your little omega butt kicked and poked with mistletoe!”

“I don't need someone who'll fall over if a fly landed on them!” Derek growls and he knows his eyes are blue as he continues, but he doesn't care. Stiles is weak, kitsune are supposed to be slightly weaker or stronger than werewolves, but Stiles’ strength is like a _humans. Pathetic_. “You could do _nothing_ , It was like watching a _human,_ ” Derek spits the word out. “trying to fight! I can't trust you to have my back in a fight. You're _useless_!”

“Hey! I saved you, thank you very much. You think that vampire would just let us go when we were the only witnesses to his crimes? He was going to kill us because he knew that dad _will_ kill him! So, I made him leave,” Stiles fishes in his hoodie's pocket and pulls out his keys, the car key in the middle glows as he twirls the Keychain around his finger. “I got a hit in with my tail and he fled.”

“Your tail is a key? Why would you do that?“ That is most definitely not a weapon like most kitsune prefer. A car key is harmless.

Not to mention useless.

“I poked him in the eye and he left after that.” Stiles says, not answering Derek's question.

Derek growls and leans into Stiles’ face, bearing his teeth at the teen. Stiles shut his eyes instinctively and pulls away. “You are not coming with.”

“I'm not afraid of you!” Stiles says defiantly and Derek glares because he clearly is. “... Okay, maybe I am. Nothing wrong with a healthy amount of respect and fear.”

Derek glares.

“So, you're just going to give me the silent treatment?” Stiles asks. “You do realise I remember the names too, so not saying anything won't stop me.”

Derek groans and lets his face fall into his hands.

* * *

Sheriff Stilinski comes home in the late evening after work’s done, and opens the door. Immediately asking; “What happened?“ the question is almost a shout as he heads straight for the living room without even taking his shoes off. He's not rushing but there is an urgency to his steps as he looks down at Stiles and carefully tilts his son's head to the side so he can see the slowly fading black eye and the bite mark on his twitching right arm, distinctively shaped like vampire teeth.

“A vampire bit him outside the Cerise.” Derek says and watches as Stilinski silently lift Stiles’ arm which is still twitching. Stilinski ignores him and runs a thumb over the bite mark and presses lightly. Black blood runs out the puncture wound and Stiles jerks awake. He flings his arms around and hits his dad on the nose before and freezing at Stilinski’s soft grunt of pain.

“Hey, dad.” Stiles says uneasily, his voice wavers nervously as he leans down into the couch. Pressing his back down and himself further from Stilinski like an animal that's submitting. Noah rolls his eyes and snorts.

“You've got vampire venom in your arm.” he says tiredly. Seemingly not noticing the amount of trust it takes to show one's belly, especially with Derek right there.

 _“Different cultures._ ” a voice that sounds distinctly like uncle Peter says in his head with that condescending tone he always seemed to get when Derek didn't understand human customs.

“Now we both have venomous bites, it can be a family thing.” Stiles says.

Noah rubs the tired from his eyes with his good hand. “You just don't want to go to Dr. Deaton.”

Stiles expression switches to horror as Stilinski mentions the man. “Please let me not go?” Stiles pleads and judging by the way Stiles is reacting the man might not be someone Derek wants to meet. There are few things that make kitsune scared, their own kind and things that are more twisted than them.

“Not unless you want to risk addiction. We're going, _now_ ,” With that Stilinski pulls out his phone and calls Dr. Deaton. The conversation is short and Stilinski orders Stiles up so he can snap a few pictures of the various injuries he's collected. Derek's injuries have already healed so Stilinski doesn't bother and drags them both off to Dr. Deaton. “And you're coming too.” he orders with a pointed finger, leaving no room for Derek to protest as the old kitsune drags them off.

On the way Stilinski interviews them about the attack, asking everything about how it happened, the vampire looked like, how the vampire acted, and more. “I'll be handing the case over to one of my deputies,” he told them, “Expect a call or being requested at the station.”

Dr. Deaton is a veterinarian, Derek discovers as he stares at the building in something akin to shock and amusement, he should have guessed that the one thing worse than an addiction to the vampire venom would be a vet. They're animals, it's only natural. He watches as Noah drags Stiles into the back room, all the while he's whining about cages and shots. “This is revenge for skipping school, isn't!?” he shouts.

There's a clean steel table in the middle of the room, the walls are stacked with different supplies and books on animal anatomy. The entire room is surrounded by mountain ash, the shivering feeling of _trapped_ hits Derek the moment the counter door snaps back into place.

“Derek, can we talk?” Stilinski asks, leaving Stiles at the paws of a vet as he leads Derek into a corner wherefrom he can watch Stiles while talking to Derek. He sounds tired and the lines of black are peeking out from the bandage wrapped around his arm.

“Sure.”

“Tell me what you honestly believe, do you believe you can keep Stiles out of this?”

“No,” Derek tells him. “I can't, he has all the leads that I have. He won't stop.” And even if Derek could make Stiles stop he's not sure he'd want to. If Derek had gotten _any_ way to save his mother he would have taken it in a heartbeat, even if it killed him.

He feels like Stiles is the same in that regard.

Stilinski makes a long drawn out sound of misery as he knows _he_ can't stop his son either. Behind him, Stiles is being poked by the vet who seem to be drawing out the poison that can change humans. The younger kitsune whines as he grips the edges of the counter he's sitting on, masking his suffering.

“-Ure he survives?” Stilinski says with determination, like a cat deciding to fight a giant dog.

“What?” The question comes out of nowhere, surprising him as he was focused on Stiles.

“I asked if you'd make sure he doesn't die.”

Derek stares, what do you answer when you can't actually say yes? “Sure.” he says, somewhat slowly.

“This might be an odd request-” Stilinski says and falters but picks up. “Don't let Stiles sacrifice who he is for this.”

_What does that mean?_

* * *

**Noah I**

“There's a party at Lydia's on Friday.” Stiles tells him miserably as his shoulders drag.

“Hey, why are you so down? Aren't you going?“ Noah asks. “You always go to Lydia's parties.”

“That I'm invited to.”

Noah blinks. “So, you're not invited?”

“Everyone is, Scott's even going with the new girl. But it's on the full moon,” Stiles says and fiddles with a book on dog anatomy. _Strange_ , but not enough to question it. “I was going to ask Derek if he wanted us to hang out with him.”

“That's kind of you.” Noah replies, surprised.

Stiles flushes and ducks his head with embarrassment. “I owe him,” he pushes the book to the side and looks at him. “What do you say?”

“Sure Stiles, if he agrees. No forcing it on him though.”

Stiles snorts, not all that convincingly.

Noah leaves shortly after as Stiles begin texting with Scott again. It makes Noah happy to know Scott's staying in contact, Noah never had much luck with human friends outside of work. The last one accused him of being a witch.

A relationship that ended with Noah on the pyre.

It was a different time.

Nowadays, because of the many supernatural shows and superhero movies, people are more open to the idea of good monsters. But Noah had still encouraged Stiles to find supernatural friends, it was always difficult for Stiles to make friends, but after his mom died, no supernatural his age would be his friend.

So Noah stopped trying after Stiles was rejected within ten minutes of the fifth try.

Noah leaves the house quietly and slips away into the woods out back, his fur rippling over his skin as he leaps down on four paws. He keeps to the shadows and shows at the designated meeting place a few minutes later. It's a small clearing in the preserve, hidden away from the paths.

Chris and Victoria Argent are already there. They're armed to the teeth, knives and a few guns were hidden on their person, and one bow with a quiver is in Chris Argent's range as it lies on the hood of their SUV, Victoria has no visible weapons.

Victoria's eyes tighten as Noah sits down in front of them, becoming taller. “What do you need Guardian?”

“ _A young werewolf was found cut in half, I don't suppose you know nothing about it?_ ” the words flow into their heads, letting them hear his words despite Noah being unable to speak. They both tense at the intrusion into their minds and slowly relax, Victoria is slower to calm like the other times they've spoken.

Chris scoffs as Victoria speaks. “We are aware of the finding of Laura Hales body. We weren't responsible for her death, and we did not cut her in half afterward as doing so without the approval of the sheriff's station or yourself would have been in violation of the treaty. We do plan on hunting this Alpha that has appeared in the wake of her death, it has already killed one of ours today. Something that could have been avoided if we had been warned of the danger.” the strong trails of accusing thoughts skims the one-way connection he's made with their mind, letting him feel their anger.

Noah's third tail flickers angrily and his ears twitch, that makes it harder. _“I wanted the hunters to take a back seat on this. One rule then, the Alpha is to be captured alive._ ”

“What?“ Victoria's voice is dangerous as she hisses out her words and Chris shifts ever so subtly towards his weapon. “It has killed one of our own, we have a right to vengeance.”

“ _it killed_ someone _before killing one of yours.”_ Noah reminds her, the general population of hunter’s disregard for werewolves’ humanity always makes Noah feel uneasy. The treaty keeping them in check aside. They know Laura Hale has living relatives, but that's not important to them, the Alpha killed one of theirs, the _animal's_ right to vengeance is unimportant. It's the same way for supernatural’s, they resent hunters for decades of mass slaughter. They believe hunters are the monsters the supernaturals are accused of being. And Noah can't blame them.

Noah didn't resent hunters despite having been hunted many times. A family once hunted him for three generations.

They have their purpose, keeping the supernatural in check, just like they keep hunters in check. So he's allowed hunters to travel through his territory for years.

It helps that his corroboration had kept the bigger and bloodier hunter families off his back. Until the Argent’s came.

Victoria's neck twitches as she stares at Noah calculatedly. “Derek Hale.” she spits.

“ _Yes.”_

“Fine, we'll capture it then. Will you have the sheriff's station on the Alpha as well?“

“ _yes_ ,” Noah tells them. “ _I've talked to Sheriff Stilinski, he's been mobilising the officers for any sighting of the Alpha. He will not refuse to work together on this_.” it always feels odd to talk about himself like he's a different person.

Victoria nods shortly and makes a sign with her hand before retreating towards the SUV. Chris follows her, throwing a confused glance back at Noah, looking at the visible bite on his leg and then his face. If Noah didn't know Chris Argent's reputation he'd say the man was worried.

Stiles is upstairs when he comes home again and a roast is cooking in the oven, it smells slightly of garlic. Noah is going to be followed by the smell for days if he's not careful.

“Stiles!” He calls up the stairs and after a few seconds his son's head sticks out with a goofy grin. “Have you gone to the hospital lately?” last time was a few months ago if Noah's recollection is right.

The grin falls from Stiles’ face and he shakes his head. “No, but I can go in a few days, the kids might miss The Amazing Magical Stiles.”

“Maybe you should go tomorrow? I bet the kids would love it. And you're looking kind of haggard.” Noah suggests, there are bangs under Stiles’ eyes he doesn't like the look of, and his complexion is paler than normal. They will have to talk about taking care of himself again sometime.

“I- yeah. It might help. I'll go tomorrow, should I confuse their poor innocent minds with mind tricks? Maybe some games? Or should I bring my magic set?” Stiles asks and looks back into his room, his face flashes with something he sees a lot. Secrets.

Noah narrows his eyes, why would Stiles be feeling guilty for doing something with magic?

“Bring the set, they love it. Remember to show them some new tricks this time or they'll figure you out.”

“It's the age of the internet dad, they know everything I do an hour after I leave,” Stiles smiles thinly. “That's why I sometimes do real magic, it's funnier, John's face always goes a strange shade of purple when he tries to figure out my tricks. Of course, Julia knows what's happening so she's never impressed, I have to use my winning personality on her.”

“She's a very tough customer, always unimpressed. How can a kid be _that_ unimpressed, it's like she eats sour cream chips every day? Wait maybe she does! Isn't salt bad for fairies?” Stiles adds, gesturing wildly.

“It's iron and has it ever occurred to you that she might not like you _because_ she's a fairy?”

“What?” Stiles exclaims fakely and laughs at himself. “But she definitely likes me! She's just very unimpressed all the time!”

* * *

**Stiles II**

His hands shake as he carefully opens the lid of the moving box. It's old and has seen wear, but on the outside, it still says clear as day, ‘ _Claudia, Spell books.’_ Stiles hasn't looked at this box for years, he hasn't even developed his magic for years, only doing party tricks to impress the kids at the hospital. But now he's dusting off the old books he's never read, they were too advanced for his proficiency back then, and they're still too advanced.

The books inside are in varying states of decay, some are in Polish and he knows that the one showing its spine to the right labelled ‘ _cookie recipes,’_ is one of the coded ones. Stiles looks though the titles of them all, finding more coded grimoires than not. He finds one non-coded grimoire on sacrificial magic but that's it besides the books on element manipulation, transformations of creatures, creature studies, potions, a personal journal, and one book with very detailed studies into kitsune.

There are two more boxes but none of them has any of the books he's looking for.

Stiles drags the boxes upstairs- with a lot of difficulties, they're really fucking heavy,- passing his dad who luckily doesn't notice him the first two times, too engraved in the lists of names Derek got from The Cerise. In his left hand he's holding his phone up to his ear as he murmurs small yes’s and questions into his phone, while in his right he's writing down information. From what Stiles can decipher he's putting out a search for the pendant Vlad had drawn for Derek.

“What's that?” Stilinski asks as he spots him sneaking by.

Stiles sways a bit on his feet from the weight, “Moms old books, thought I'd find some new tricks to show the kids.”

“Will you be okay?” Dad asks, always worrying for Stiles, even when he's got a ticking clock on his arm.

“It's been seven years dad,” Stiles says breathily, lying through his teeth but keeping it close enough to the truth that Stilinski won't hear the lies in his heart. “I think the time has come.”

Stiles reads the book on sacrificial magic first. It's exciting but disgusting. You can do almost anything with dark magic as it gives power, unlike anything nature can create. There's a small reference to werewolves in it. It had nothing to do with healing or even their ability to draw pain from other life forms. The section was about sacrificing werewolves on a full moon and how because they'd be more powerful and connected to their wolf, they'd give not only magical power but a brief connection to the moon.

The ritual didn't just require one to kill the werewolves (four at minimum) but to skin the Alpha of the pack alive while fully transformed, wear the skin like a new jacket and then use the Alpha's claws to drain the power from the betas. There was a few more steps and torture involved but Stiles already dislikes the book.

It sounds more like skinwalkers than a ritual.

Stiles flips the book closed and rubs his eyes, he's exhausted. 05:14 am, the clock by his bed tells him almost mockingly in the dim light. He should go sleep.

But there are the other books too.

It's 05:48 by the time he's done sorting the books, into language, coded and not coded, the subject and the alphabet. The corner of his room is filled with grimoires standing on the floor with their spine upwards. He’ll begin combing through the ones not in English first as that should be easiest, a simple Google translate will give him the info on what the spells inside are about.

Then he'll move to the coded ones.

There's over fifteen of them in English and realistically maybe one of them, if he's lucky, is about blood magic.

It couldn't hurt to read some of the light magic ones too.

Stiles looks at his work load and feels the exhaustion run through his bones with weight. Skipping school has never felt so exhausting before, and the last time Scott was panicking the whole day because he was scared Melissa would find out.

Stiles flops on his bed and closes his eyes to sleep. He doesn't get far, his mind keeps edging away, flinging itself at something new to think about. Like his dad, who he couldn't prevent being bitten, who only have two or fewer months left.

He traces the puncture marks on his arm, there's no bandage as he doesn't need it anymore. He caught glimpses of it every now and then and flinches every time. The thoughts of the vampire brings back how hopeless he'd been. He wasn't strong enough to get free, even though a normal kitsune with two tails like him would have been able to do it. Easily. His dad could have done it despite being weakened. Derek could have done it if he hadn't been impaled on the loose metal scattered in the alley.

Stiles- Stiles can't.

He's got his bat, his keys and some magic that's basically just parlour tricks. Illusions are what he's got most practice with. After that, it's water magic, then random little spells his mom had taught him before she died. Stiles hadn't learned any new magic since she died, and it's about time he started up again. His dad's life is on the line.

Stiles rips open a drawer of his night table and takes the candle shoved in the far end out. It's old, at least six years old, deformed, white, and broken on the middle, the only thing holding it together at this point is the candle wick. He stares at it doing his best to feel the magic and making it catch fire.

The flame appears easily enough.

Stiles blinks and the flame is snuffed out, with another blink it lights up again. That's good, it's a basic exercise, making a flame and killing it. Stiles is still embarrassed with how long it took him to learn.

He always wanted to be a fire kitsune like his dad. But fire never came easily to him, it was hard and he struggled for weeks until mom managed to get him to try some other types of magic. Turns out he was best at water magic. The magical opposite and equal of fire.

To say Stiles had been disappointed was an understatement.

“Let's try something harder.” Stiles whispers and cups both his hands around the candle and heats it up in his palm it melts and the hot wax drips down the small opening in his hands as it melts a quicker than planned, overheating. The wax becomes too hot and it spills out over his bed when he quickly draws his hands back to shake the wax from them.

There's wax all over his bed.

Stiles groans and begins picking up the cooling pieces, dust and small grey and black hairs stick to them. Stiles whimpers in embarrassment when he sees the hairs and looks over his bed, noticing the hairs he hadn't before. He'll have to vacuum his bed or dad will notice he's been spending time in his bed as a fox.

After removing the hairs from the wax, -he didn't get them all they'll be trapped for life-, he cups them in his hands again and carefully heats them a little bit at the time until they're soft enough to be pushed together around the candle wick. It's more deformed than before, but with some heat in his fingers he can smooth the bumps down to form something somewhat symmetrical.

He holds it and wills it to float. Making objects float was something mom had been teaching him before she got dementia, he remembers how it's supposed to work, and that should be all he needs.

It stays unmoving in his hand, stubbornly refusing to float at least a hair's width.

“Float dammit.”

It doesn't and Stiles throws it lightly into the air, hoping to at least be able to catch it mid-air.

It falls.

“ _Believe in yourself Stiles, or you'll never get the fire going.”_

“ _But mom I'm trying! It just won't do it! I'll never be like dad at this rate.”_

_“There is no try.”_

_“Do or do not. There is no try.”_

_“_ Believe _or_ believe _not, there is no try. What am I, Stiles?”_

_“You're a spark mom.”_

_“And that means my magic comes from my belief, little mischief, that means yours does so too._ _So what do we say?“_

Stiles whispers, “Believe or believe not. There is no try.” closing his eyes, and he _believes_ , and imagines that the candle floats over his hands rotating ever so slowly. When he opens his eyes the candle floats just below where he imagined it. Stiles stares at it in disbelief, his mom's old saying had never worked for him as a child.

The candle drops and he curses.

Stiles is still weak but he'll get stronger. Strong enough to save his dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: About chapter updates, they're not going to be consistent, I'm busy with school and have little time to write as drawing is my priority. The chapters you're getting are rewritten versions of the originals from months ago, parted up in two which means this chapter was originally part of chapter 2. Also, I've been rewriting a dialogue from chap 4 up to 3 times by now.
> 
> I'm using a lot of time on making this story the best I can.


	4. Don't like people if you don't know their names

  **Stiles III**  

* * *

 Stiles is surrounded by children when the nurses come into the room and interrupts his fake magic trick. It's time for their sleep and Stiles promises them to return in a few weeks when he can.  Julia stares at him, unimpressed as she allows herself to be led away. She turns with a roll of her eyes and begins talking to one of the other kids.

“It's great when you come here Stiles,” Says one of the nurses, Melissa McCall, Scott’s mom, and she looks tired, half her curly brown hair is sticking out of her ponytail like she had just taken a nap. John, a small boy born with a weak heart, and Millie a girl with a lung condition, had been missing and Stiles can only imagine two reasons for it, and one is horrifying. A part of Stiles desperately wants to cry, even with all the supernatural help at the hospital, they just can't do anything sometimes. The other part of him wants to go home and never return. “They love you, Stiles.”

Stiles gestures awkwardly and feels slightly guilty. “I do what I can,” his stomach growls loudly and Lilian, a girl of 8 years with no hair but eyes that shines with life, giggles at his predicament. “I should go. Go home I mean. To get something to eat. I’m uh hungry.” Stiles says, his thoughts drifting briefly to the food in the fridge, just waiting for a heating.

“No,” Melissa says. “Wait here and I'll get you something. Lilian, let's get you to your room, come on.” She points once at him and then the ground before turning her back on him and walks away. She knows he'll be there once she's back.

The problems of not being able to escape your best friend’s mom.

Lilian waves back and doesn't say anything but makes a goofy face behind Melissa's back as the woman guides her along. Stiles sticks his tongue out and crosses his eyes, Lilian laughs and disappears down a corner with Melissa.

Stiles watches for a few seconds and slips away with his ‘ _magic suitcase’_ under one arm. He's at the morgue in no time, slipping past personnel with quick and small illusions. Stiles gags as he slowly opens the door to the morgue, the smell hits him like a lacrosse ball to the head and he feels nauseous.

He walks over the drawers and smells at all of them until he finds Laura's smell. Stiles takes a deep breath with his mouth and pulls out her body. If he had thought the smell was bad before, it had nothing on her body when outside in the air.  

He takes another breath and feels for her lingering emotions, they are an odd mix of some kind of happiness he had never felt before and terror. Why she would be happy before her death Stiles doesn't understand.

“Okay,” He whispers and closes his eyes shut as he zips away the covering. “Don't puke, and _especially_ don't faint.” he says softly, mostly to himself as he opens his eyes and looks over the many cuts in her body that definitely looks like she's been mauled by an angry werewolf. They have a ragged look to them as if the claws had been digging into her flesh at a painstakingly slow pace. Around her ankles are angry red skin like she had been tied up. Her middle is not as big of a mess like he had thought that night in the forest, instead the flesh is torn more smoothly. At her waist, just over the cut is a a large black tattoo of a wolf pack sleeping in a giant pile. The number of wolves in the tattoo match the number of people who died in the fire.

Stiles suddenly feels sick and the room temperature is dropping round him. A memory wells up in the back of his mind and he can taste the bile in the back of his throat as his head swims among the smells and feelings of despair.

He shivers and packs her in with hurried but careful hands because he does not want to harm Derek's sister more than he already has. He sips her up and a thought comes to him, he could have left DNA on her. Stiles dismisses the thought quickly as Scott's DNA is probably on her body as well with how he had tumbled over her body, Stiles’ dad must have smoothed it over.

Stiles locks her body up again and can't help but feel like he’s being a creep after having stared and studied her mauled naked body. And it's Derek's sister, he's not going to be able to look the werewolf in the eyes.

Oh god.

He's looked at _Derek's_ sister and _Alphas_ naked, dead, and mauled body. He's going to kill him.

Derek can never know what he did on this day. Stiles will take it to his grave.

He closes the door and takes the file hanging on it. Stiles skims it for information, she has tattoos, a pricing, the wounds that killed her happened long before she was bisected, and there were traces of something in her blood Stiles doesn't know what is. It's probably wolfsbane. Stiles hands begin shaking as he slips the folder back as it sat.

He takes a shaky breath once it's in place and rushes out the cold room, speeding along the hallways and annoying medical staff as he dodges between them. He almost runs a surgeon whom he recognises, over. Stiles throws himself into one of the bathrooms and hurls himself at one of the toilet booths as what little he had in his stomach comes rushing out the way it came down. He washes his face with shivering limbs and looks at his reflection.

Time to face the facts, if Laura was killed by hunters Derek would be Alpha, if she was killed by a werewolf he wouldn't.

Derek isn't an Alpha.

Laura was bisected. Werewolves doesn't really do that, hunters do that. She wasn't cleanly cut in two, but it happened sometime after death.

Either the Alpha came back or there's hunters hiding in Beacon Hills, right under his dad's nose.

But Stilinski would have come to the same conclusion Stiles had, he told Stiles the day he was bitten that Stiles should have known what it meant when a body was cut in half. It didn't register in Stiles before now, he'd been too worried about other things to notice.

Hunters. In Beacon Hills.

Stiles practically flies towards the hospital exit.

He needed out yesterday.

“There you are!” Melissa suddenly walks in front of him, cutting off his path with what looks like a sandwich in her left hand. Stiles shouts out in shock, having completely forgotten about her. Melissa, not expecting his shout, screeches in surprise, “Stiles!” she whispers hard and pushes her sandwich into his hands. “Where were you? I've been looking all over for you.” She looks at his face and knits her eyebrows together, placing the back of her hand on his forehead before moving it down to his black eye. “You look pale, are you alright? Have you been sleeping?” she sweetly forgoes asking about the black eye slowly healing on his face.

“I err-” Stiles says intelligently as he wraps his hands around the sandwich and lightly pushes his hands and the sandwich back against his chest, so he’s standing awkwardly with the sandwich. “I was on the toilet. On the toilet pooping.” he says in the end when the pause gets too long.

“Ah, that is important,” Melissa says, not believing him one second. Worry flows of her as she pats him on the shoulder and looks at his tired eyes. “Try to get some sleep. No all nighter today, okay? At least you haven't dragged Scott into it this time you con artist,” She smiles at him without any judgment. “I know your dad's been sick but he's going to be okay. So, take it easy. Try not showing up with a black eye and looking sicker than the kids you’re supposed to entertain next time. It isn't a good way to be a role model.”

“I’m not a role model.” Stiles protests and holds a hand awkwardly over his eyes and rubs them. “Or a con artist. Why would you even think that?” He adds quickly.

Melissa gives him a look.

“What?”

She stares, the same look in her eyes. The one she uses when she finds him and Scott doing something they shouldn't have. A slightly disappointed look, but also way more amused. Scott's got the same look down pat. “I’ve known you since you were little, Stiles. Besides, shouldn't you have been in school today?”

“What? how do you- I was in school.”

“Well you just confirmed you weren’t,” Melissa is a demonic entity. Sometimes he wonders if she really is of fae decent. It would answer so many questions he has about the two McCalls he likes. “How did you get that black eye?”

“I was swinging a stick around.” Stiles says, he had already prepared an alibi for his shiner.

“Of course,” Melissa says with a big nod. ”Do you know how many times I hear that one? Don’t answer, it’s a lot. I expect that Scott does not have a black eye when I come home?” She says, a crooked smile on her lips and he nods. Her hands roam his face until she glances at her watch and looks back up at him disappointed. “My break is over, so I will see you later Stiles.” She swiftly walks away, and Stiles looks down at the sandwich. It’s ham and cheese.

His stomach growls, empty.

* * *

“What do you need Stiles?” Vlad asks as Stiles slips into one of the stools at his bar. He immediately hands over a glass of orange juice as Stiles gets comfy, almost as if he'd expected Stiles to show up.

“Me? Need something? Can’t I go visit you without a hidden agenda?” Stiles asks, loosely appalled.

Vlad tsks, “Stiles, everyone wants _something_ from me, power, information, alcohol.”

“Company?” Stiles suggests and drums his fingernails on the glass, the tips if his fingertips going wet with condensation.

“No,” Vlad says and shifts his eyes to where another bartender, a female fae who looks eight and is very tall for her apparent age, her head only just reaches over the edge, and she's mixing up some blood, it smells like blood, for a blonde woman sitting besides Stiles. “What are you doing here then?”

“... information,” Stiles admits. “And this time you better not scam me.”

“Why Stiles, it was a fair trade of information,” Vlad says appalled, or fake appalled, Stiles can never tell the difference, no heartbeat. “You found out about the cards you wanted, and I got first-hand information on the vetting process your father uses.”

“I was eleven, and that wasn't the only time.”

“And I am as old as your father Stiles, in my eyes you will be a child until you are at the most a hundred. That is when a Kitsune is considered an adult among their own, correct?”

Stiles scowls. “I'm not answering that.”

“Regardless, I will need something in return for information.” Vlad turns to pick at the various bottles littering shelves covering the entire wall.

“Of course, you want something in return. You _never_ want something in return, this is so surprising! What will I do? I wasn't prepared! Where you?” Stiles says not kindly and stares almost dully as the reflection of a blue bottle labelled ‘Unicorn saliva,’ shows off as a mermaid, his scales are visible on his arms, and a dwarf, the supernatural kind, speaks and clicks glasses of beer. A strange combination.

“Your sarcasm is noted.” Vlad interrupts his musings.

“Hunters,” He says bringing his attention back on Vlad as the woman beside him sips the blood drink. Eating blood has always been _weird_ to Stiles, it makes sense but it's just plain _weird_. Stiles is happy, _grateful_ , he's not a vampire or anything else that likes to drink and eat blood. Blood jelly is freaky. “How many have been in Beacon Hills since dad took over and before then, where and when.”

Vlad lifts one eyebrow as he stares into Stiles eyes with his crimson gaze. “That is a heavy request. What do you plan to do with the information? Kill them all? Torture them? It would seem fitting with what you are Stiles, but are you not going sober?”

“Look I could just take the time to find out myself, it'll be easy. But I don't have all day so what do you want in return for making my life so easy and comfortable?” He ends it with a question

Vlad hums and taps his chin as if he's thinking about it, he peers up past Stiles and grins. “I want you to talk with someone who just got here, she still has to talk to the Protector. But I want to know why she's here first. What do you say?”

“You want me to talk with someone who could be a murderous criminal?”

“Well you'll be the one meeting with them soon enough, so it might be good to get a leg up.” Vlad says like he's doing Stiles a favor.

“He's not dying.” Stiles snaps and Vlad blinks.

“Well then you better get to work,” he says with a smug smile and points subtly behind Stiles. “Go talk to the blonde woman in the leather jacket.”

Stiles looks behind him and spots the woman, she's leaning back on one of the dark red sofas with a drink that smells strongly of alcohol in one hand and a black phone in the other. Her thumb types away at the screen as she sips on her drink. She's kind of hot, but nowhere near Lydia's level. No one is prettier and smarter than Lydia Martin. “You're not a vampire! but a demon who's crawled his way from hell to torture everyone in his domain!“ Stiles hisses to Vladimir but the vampire is already gone to talk with other customers.

Stiles never really have problems with speaking to strangers, but casually asking someone for directions or just where they got their superman shirt is very different than questioning a total stranger on their personal reasons for being in Beacon Hills.

With a very- in his opinion- painful groan Stiles treks up to the woman, but before he can embarrass himself by spewing out Vlad’s question she lowers her phone and looks up at him. Saving him the future nights the memories of his embarrassment would have kept him up. “Who might you be?”

 _It seems I do have a lucky kitsune looking over my shoulder._ Stiles thinks with more relief than probably necessary. “I'm Stiles, Stiles Stilinski. Vlad asked me to ask you about why you're in Beacon Hills.”

She smirks at him, evidently able to tell he isn't comfortable. “Kate, and now Why would I tell you anything, it could be something _private_ you know.” she gives him a very slow wink.

“Well it's not my question, I don't care. Give me a lie if you want.” He offers, then it technically won't be _him_ lying and then Vlad won't know better. That's what he gets for being an ass, incorrect information.

She taps her chin thoughtfully and her smirk widens with mirth. “Hmm. How about this, I'm in Beacon Hills to eat the best dishes in the world.” she snaps her fingers.

Stiles stares, “Hah. No. He won't believe that. It's too likely.” he says sarcastically.

She smiles softly then. “How about the truth then? I'm here for my brother, he's been having issues with the family business,” she flips her hand with a shrug, “What about you then? What are you at the Cerise for?”

“I'm just here to confirm something from Vlad.” Stiles says vaguely.

“Really? I'm not actually here for _anything_. I was searching for the Kitsune so when I saw an elf. I asked if he knew where I should go. ‘yeah, I will show you to the kitsune’ he said and dumped me in here.” she makes a quick gesture to his right where a blonde elf, dressed in a faintly purple suit with a twisting pattern of tree branches, is sitting at the bar with another elf with dark skin, beads braided into his blonde hair and casual clothes, t-shirt and jeans.

The first elf turns and gestures to Kate and Stiles, “I found her on the street isn't she pretty?“

“I like the male with her more, he has nice marks on his face, I don't see that a lot,” The other says and leers at Stiles, “She's too old, it's too bad she's one of the ageing ones. Makes her ugly.”

“Shut up Lema, you just like your humans small.”

Stiles turns from the conversation with embarrassment. “Don't trust the elves, they're a bunch of creepy freeloaders.”

Kate snorts and glares over at the two elves, she can't hear what they're saying but their stares are enough to clue her into their intentions. “I'll keep it in mind for the next time I ask one for directions.”

“To get a meeting with the kitsune you have to talk with the sheriff, you know like a middle man. He's the one that does most of the interviews for the guardian and he checks people out. Figures out if they're creeps here to kill everyone.”

“The law enforcement here _knows_ about it all? I can get that some of them might know, Beacon Hills _is_ one of the biggest supernatural Hotspot in the world. But everyone? That's… _insane_.”

Stiles huffs. “Not everyone, but those my dad would trust not to shoot at a vampire the first time they see one. Trust me, it's better that way. Thomson never really recovered, may his undead husk rest peacefully.”

“Dad?” Kate asks, discarding her phone and leaning towards him.

Stiles stares for a few seconds, “Oh right, you're not a local, my dad is the sheriff.”

“He is? Then you must know a lot about how Beacon Hills is run. What are the best ways to get through an interview without revealing my devious not safe for children plans?”

Stiles snorts, “You can't and even if I knew I couldn't tell you.”

“So you're not spying on your dad? Trying to get an in into what he's doing? I know I did when I was younger. I'd sneak around and listen in on my dad, later I got a microphone installed in his office, but he found it within minutes.”

“That's… well I wouldn't bug my dad,” he would but he never has,” what did your dad do that was so exciting anyway? Sell drugs?”

She leans back into the sofa, her chin raised as she picks up her glass and peers into the liquid inside. “We sell weapons it's the family business. With your dad being the sheriff, you must be familiar with guns. I held my first gun at 5 years old, my mother and father were so angry, my mom mostly because she did not want me to like guns. My dad told me it was what made him certain that I was meant for the family business. Even though he won't let me sell like Chris.” the last part is whispered, not meant for Stiles to hear.

“I've actually never touched a gun, dad won't allow me to. I think he's sure I'll somehow end up shooting myself,” Stiles thinks it over and hastily adds, “Which I wouldn't.”

“Are you sure?” she giggles lightly.

“... Probably,” Stiles admits, “But I really wanted to learn how to use a gun when I was 14 and read everything I could get from the internet. Dad wasn't even impressed by my research and still said no. Again.”

Kate raises her glass. “Well someday you'll be able accidentally shoot yourself without needing your father's permission.”

Stiles is about to reply when he remembers that he's only 15, and that for kitsune, adulthood starts at 100. With Stilinski being a pure kitsune Stiles can't see himself escaping the strict gun-less laws of his father's. “yeah…  that's probably never happening. I might be a bit too keen on living.”

They lapse into silence and Kate fidgets with her nails, “So I've been wondering, actually I've been having a lot of trouble with it. But what are you?“

The question is obvious but also so very rude. It's something _he would ask,_ so Stiles knows it's a bad one. “What I am? I'm a boy? You know male, I have seen my own body before you know, it would honestly be weirder if I never went to the toilet or bathed.“

Kate stares her eyes widening and her mouth turning down into a scowl as he talks.

Stiles grins at her face, it's quite comical and replies, “I'm human.” it's not a total lie, so even if she can hear his heart she won't know any better.

“Wait really? I was sure…” she frowns in thought and roams her eyes over his face, scrutinising.

“Sure I was a what?” Stiles scowls, ”Actually don't tell me because if this becomes the 23rd time I'm told someone thinks I'm a werecreature I _will_ hit you.”

Just because he can transform into a fox and has amber eyes doesn't make him a _werecreature,_ they're humans plus something else, even those that are born. Werecreatures turn into animals, and kitsune technically turn _human_ , not fox.

Now that he thinks about it, it's kind of disturbing. Kitsune got their human forms by inhabiting humans, and when the humans learned to figure out who was possessed and get rid of the kitsune, they learned to make a human form for themselves. But that also means they're not really compatible with humans, so how does Stiles exist? Most supernaturals has always had a human base, they were humans that changed so it makes sense. But elves can't make babies with humans, the DNA is too different- so how the fuck does a spirit and a human make a baby. Stilinski doesn't even have DNA in the normal sense and Stiles has seen what his own DNA looks like.

It's not pretty.

Did the first the human kitsune forms have a basis in human genes? But how does that work with half kitsune, you can't breed a fox and a human. Hell, you can't breed a mule.

… Does that make Stiles infertile?

Is Stiles even male? He knows most kitsune doesn't have gender, they're hermaphrodites. They just become what they need to make more little tricksters. Technically Stilinski could probably get pregnant- which is not something Stiles wants to think of- bad brain, think of rainbows.

Rainbows are good, nice, and safe from any thoughts into whether or not Stiles can get pregnant.

“… I was thinking spirit animal.” Kate says, interrupting his thoughts and saving him from continuing with the very awkward thoughts of his own gender.

“why?” that was one he's never heard before. Spirit animal, cool but also kind of horrifying considering they're basically in servitude to a magical person. Like a slave but with 10% more fake freedom.

She hums. “It's mostly your eyes, then Vlad? That was his name, right? Vlad gave you juice which could be because spirit animals aren't allowed alcohol, then there's- well it doesn't matter I clearly guessed wrong.” she shrugs and grins, showing teeth. “What am I then? Can you guess?”

“Well you're supernatural because why else would you need to meet with the Kitsune or Sheriff?” he takes a subtle whiff of her scent, she doesn't smell like a normal creature like a were or other non-humans, but she does smell somewhat magical, “I think you're a witch. You can't be a druid as you're too… un-vague… and too… non-evil… I'm biased. Please don't be a druid after I just said all that. I swear The local druid is evil.“ she nods along as he speaks though there's a thoughtful look in her eyes when he mentions Deaton.

“I'm not a witch.” She says

“… A druid?” Stiles tries, really hoping she's not.

She sees his face and laughs. “Human,” she finally says, taking pity on him.

That just doesn't make sense, “But why would you need to meet with the kitsune then? If you're just human? the only other way is if you're a hunter-”

“-Hunter.” she finishes the sentence with him

Stiles, unprepared for the revelation- how was he fucking unprepared? He was here because of hunters- kind of just froze like a deer in the headlights. “You're a hunter? In a bar filled with supernaturals? It's that really something you want to advertise?” she laughs nervously to diffuse the tension that has his head swarming with the sound of a thousand flies, people look their way, their eyes filled with curiosity or just good old contempt.

 _Relax_ , he tells himself and sags his shoulders, _she thinks you're human so you're safe_.

“You're tense.” she says, his attempts at being causal clearly failed.

“Yeah well,” he says, ”hunters don't have the best reputation in these parts, you know with the whole burning down a pack of werewolves that included humans- you know, humans like me, just because they were loved by and loved werewolves.”

“The Hale fire wasn't us.”

“Yeah sure, it wasn't hunters, it was clearly the house who was the culprit, kept them looked in and tightly packed for grill night.” Stiles rolls his eyes and gets satisfaction when she winces, her face twisting.

“It wasn't, they were peaceful.” she repeats, shoulders tight, like hunters actually care if supernaturals are peaceful.

“Sure…” Stiles drawls, ”So what family do you belong to?”

“Argent”

“Ohhh… A _werewolf hunting_ family staying in _Beacon Hills,”_ he nods dramatically and swings his hand in a circle _, ”_ you've either got balls of diamond or are just plain crazy.

She grins, his sarcasm apparently making _her_ less tense. “between you and me? I think my brother is just crazy, but sometimes you have to do uncomfortable things to protect innocent people.”

Stiles nods, he wholeheartedly agrees, it's what he's doing right now, doing something uncomfortable to not get his dad and himself killed. It is really too bad Kate's a hunter, he'd begun liking her. “I couldn't agree more.”

Now to find a natural way to get free of their conversation without seeming suspicious. Cold sweat trickles down his neck. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conversation between Stiles and Kate has been a real pain to write and has gone through so many rewrites trying to make her seem less creepy and more normal/manipulative. And let me tell you, she really was in the first draft- stalker-ish and pushy.


	5. A full moons brings the howls of hunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap: Noah was bitten by an Alpha werewolf and Stiles searchers for a way to find a cure and capture the alpha. During his search, he sneaks in to look at Laura Hales body and as a result, ends up discovering that hunters from the Argent family are in Beacon Hills.

**Stiles IV**  

* * *

 

Stiles doesn’t see his dad until the next day, he’s sitting at the dining table with papers scattered around a coffee cup he’s holding with his left-hand as his right-hand puts down notes. Stiles had used the rest of his day trying to get into contact with Scott- to no avail, there had been radio silence, -  looking through the grimoires on dark magic, practising some magic exercises (pushing and floating increasingly heavier items), searching for magical ingredients, and scouring the internet for myths about werewolves. He had learned more about werewolves the previous day -fake and not- than he had thought he would ever have known in his life. Even though he’d live well into his thousands unless he ends up murdered by a hunter. He had researched legends from King Lycaeon being cursed into becoming a werewolf when he had fed Zeus the flesh of his son, to werewolves being the descendants of Hati, the son of Fenrir, who chases the moon until Ragnarok.

“Hey, dad.”

Stilinski looks up, startled, and spills coffee over some of his papers. “Stiles,” He says, rattled and moves to wipe away his spilt drink, “I didn’t notice you.”

“I noticed,” Stiles tells him with a wide gesture to the spilt coffee and hands him a towel to suck up the coffee, some of the papers are ruined beyond recognition but Stiles sees a flash of Laura's face before the paper is shoved away with the rest. “When were you going to tell me?” He’s almost embarrassed by how hurt he sounds as he says the words.

His dad squints up at him confused. “Did I forget something again? This damn bite. Yesterday I forgot I’d written the report on that vampire that attacked you and Derek and ended up writing it twice.”

“Yeah I guess you could say that.” Stiles snaps, somewhere in the back of his mind he realises that his dad isn’t deflecting but doesn't get what he’s talking about. He ignores that part in anger. “Hunters! and you didn’t even tell me! I suspected- of course I did!- but I didn’t know for sure! What if I did something non-human and they noticed? - like running too fast, or if my eyes glowed? I’d be hunted down! How am I supposed to save you- protect you if you keep things from me!?”

“I was protecting you,” Stilinski says slowly, and carefully moves to his feet, as if afraid of spooking a scared animal. Or enrage a furious fox. “And it's not your damned job to take care of me, Stiles, I’m over 600 years old, it’s my job to take care of _you_ , I’m the-”

“No,” Stiles says, and his voice rises, cracking with the fury he suddenly feels. “I don’t want excuses dad, I went to Vlad’s bar and he said that this isn't the first-time hunters where in Beacon Hills. You put me at risk- you put yourself at risk! Hunters can’t be trusted with following the rules! Beacon Hills is supposed to be _safe_ _from them_!” _I was sitting in front of one yesterday and I didn’t even know!_

Dad looks at him sadly and says, “Stiles, your eyes.”

Stiles snaps his mouth shut and clenches his teeth, “Don’t change the subject!”

Dad says nothing and reaches out to him, to give Stiles a hug. Stiles backs away holding his hands up.

Stilinski begins to open his mouth, his face set in worry, he looks old and tired. Stiles interrupts him. “You weren't going to tell me, so when were you? In a hundred years? In a thousand? Never? You would never have told me- even though-” Stiles chokes on his words and turns, running out and hastily slipping on his shoes and jacket as he runs, ignoring how Stilinski calls after him.

 _Hiding from your problems Stiles?_ His brain whispers as he slams the door to his jeep and drives out the driveway. “Shut up.” he says out loud and focuses on getting his eyes to stop glowing, it's still early morning so it's still dark enough that they would be noticed.

He drives until he’s outside the burnt building of the Hale house, Derek is already standing outside on the porch with his arm crossed and an expression of annoyance.

“What are you doing here Stiles?”

Stiles jumps from his jeep and jogs up to Derek, stopping below the steps to the porch. The middle step is ruined so he doesn’t go farther, who knows if the others can take his weight. “What's your phone number.” He doesn’t meet his eyes. He can’t, not after yesterday.

They say the eyes are the window to one’s soul.

If Stiles looks him in the eyes Derek will find out, he saw his sister naked.

Then he’d be dead.

“I don't have one,” Derek says, “What are you doing here?”

“Getting fresh air,” Stiles says and carefully sits down on the first but whole burnt step, he shows Derek his own phone, wiggling it in his face. “And your number-that you don't have. How the hell am I supposed to contact you? Howl at the moon?” He asks with annoyance.

“You're not.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Stiles asks instead because he does know one thing about werewolves, and that is that the full moon for pack-less omegas are horrifying, and Derek is just that, pack-less. Stiles would like to be there for him during it, to be nice- the good deed of the month. It might be fun, just Stiles, Derek, and his-

-And Stiles is annoyed again. _You can't even run from your problems, they just keep coming back like lice_.

“You’re angry today.” Derek observes.

“No shit Sherlock, what gave it away? The lack of rainbows and general cuteness over my head? Or is it just me who can see them?” Stiles says, his voice flat. “Seriously though what are you going to do on the full moon?”

Derek huffs. “I’m going to be right here.”

“With hunters around? Just if you didn’t know.” Stiles asks and looks at his phone when it quacks, he changed Scott’s text tone the previous evening out of spite. He doesn’t read the message, letting it back into his pocket.

“Of course I know,” Derek rolls his eyes and shoulders. “The Argent’s are werewolf hunters, I would recognise them everywhere.”

Stiles stares, _Argents_ , he shudders and swallows. Their reputation certainly precedes them. “You knew. Was I the only one not aware of dangerous hunters in Beacon Hills?”

“You didn’t know,” Derek says like it is the most idiotic thing he’s heard his whole life. “ _She_ was in two pieces. Hunters do that to lure the rest of the pack into a slaughter. How could you not know that?”

“Yeah, sorry for apparently being a sheltered brat.” Stiles says darkly.

Derek, as if sensing the sensitive subject changes it. “Why do you want to know what I’d be doing tomorrow?”

“Oh yeah. I wanted to know if you wanted me and dad there- or just- you know, me and not my dad? I don’t know how it works with werewolves, but with the slight pull the moon has on Kitsune, family or friends are good to be with.” Stiles says awkwardly because the full moon is something special for most supernaturals, but werewolves, in particular, has a deep connection to it as their powers are derived from the moon. Werewolves have deep pack bonds that help them with control of the moon's influence, a pack makes werewolves content, less prone to violence, stronger, and happier. It was why the then Hale pack had been so strong. It might have been average in size, but the bonds they had with each other, and the magic of Beacon Hills had made them one of the stronger packs in North America.

Derek stares at him silently, like he can't believe Stiles would ask him that, and a strange happy feeling comes from him as he moves his head very lightly.

“That's a yes?“

Derek's eyes narrow. “Yes.”

“Awesome dude! What do werewolves normally do? Do you need a stick for playing fetch?“

Stiles might have deserved to be kicked from the step he was sitting on for that one.

* * *

They had been out the whole day, showing Derek's scent off in hopes that the Alpha would come to them. But the alpha never came, and they found no clues. While they walk aimlessly among the trees and shrubbery, Derek made Stiles read his - not his, his mom's grimoires, so Stiles would, to quote: ‘be quiet so that Derek can concentrate on not killing him.’ it was really as good a reason as any.

Derek tenses just a bit beside Stiles as they walk through a small clearing and the moonlight hits him.

“Do you play or fight?” Stiles asks.

Derek looks at him impressive control, “We played games, chase after each other, fight. Things like that. After- after the fire, Laura and I would stay with uncle Peter and play chess. He wouldn't participate of course, but it was what he would do in the full moon.” there's pain in his voice as he talks about his lost family.

Stiles frowns, “Really? That seems passive, not what I'd expect from werewolves.”

“Well,” Derek says and steps into the shadow of a tree, away from the moonlight, ”Peter always had the best control of all of us, even better than my mother. I remember my mother saying that he would have been the alpha if he'd been born five years earlier.”

“Why? Isn't it always the oldest?”

“He did his first full shift at three, at least according to Peter. It was enough for my grandfather to want to pass over my mother for the title, but he died when uncle Peter was six, so the title went to my mother.”

That reminded Stiles too much of The Lion King for him to be comfortable, “And he never felt _he_ was passed over? Abandoned?”

“No, why would he?” Derek asks, completely baffled by the thought.

“Oh well,” Stiles says with a shrug, passing the information into the back of his mind, ”What do you do for the full moons then?”

“I fight.” he says shortly and breaks a pretty large branch of a three they pass. He throws the broken branch away and continues. Stiles stares at the branch with confusion.

Why did he break the branch?

Some werewolf anger management?

Stiles shakes off his confusion and says; “… That's very stereotypical angry werewolf of you. All claws and argh!!” he claws his fingers and roars into the sky.

“It's what most werewolves prefer.” Derek mutters, insulted.

“I rest my case.” Stiles says smugly.

“Fine. What do you do then Stiles? Since we're sharing so much.” Derek drawls.

Stiles thinks it over, sometimes he's just home playing games with Scott or something similar, nothing like werewolves, but a few full moons are more difficult than others. “I like playing with my dad and just sitting.”

“Sitting?” Derek asks in disbelief and raises a dubious but amused eyebrow.

Yeah, laugh it off asshole.

“Yeah sitting, meditating, being petted.” Stiles lists off.

“That's degrading.” Derek snaps with disgust.

“Hey, don't knock it till you try it.” Stiles snarls. Petting is nice _if_ the one petting him is someone he trusts.

Derek winces, “Still, sitting isn't like you.”

“Hah no, I've got horrendous control, gotta sit still or I'll end up eating bunnies for weeks.”

“…” Derek stares at him in silence.

“It's happened.” Stiles insists and points at him with the grimoire.

“The full moon doesn't affect Kitsune like that.” Derek says and steals the grimoire right from Stiles’ hands and looks at the page. His face flips in confusion and annoyance.

“It does, it's different from werewolves,” he explains and tugs the grimoire into his armpit when Derek hands it back, “You guys get angry, we become more like what kitsune was before we became humanoid, more or less mischievous and like a fox depending on who you are.”

Derek snorts, “That's stupid.”

“And being rage filled and wanting to kill is better?”

“Yes.” He says confidently, ripping yet another branch.

Stiles looks at his phone, the moon is about to peak for werewolves, “No it's not, that's a potential for murder.”

Derek glances at him with blue glowing eyes and snorts rudely.

“Snort all you want, you know I'm right.”

“What about Scott McCall?”

Stiles frowns, “What about him?”

“Isn't he part of your pack?”

“Kitsune doesn't have packs Derek, I thought you knew. Being an all-knowing sourwolf and all.”

“And you're dodging the question.” Derek says and steps in front of Stiles’ path, he tries to step around, but then Derek is there again.

“What do you want?” Stiles demands, pushing past Derek before he can be stopped again.

“We're sharing Stiles, remember?” Derek mocks and pulls him up in the air by the hook of his backpack, “Having a heart to heart.”

“Fine!” Stiles snarls, agitated, as Derek turns him so they're glowing eye to glowing eye. “He doesn't want to see me! He's freaking out because werewolves exist and suddenly his best friend is some immortal kitsune! Which by the way he relates to sexy kitsune in video games!”

Derek hums, “I think I can see it,” He says, suddenly serious, “You're just missing the ears and tails.”

Stiles can't do anything but gape pathetically as he stares at Derek. _I can't fucking believe he said that!_ His mind screams at him as it breaks with the image of Derek sitting by a computer looking at sexy anime fox-girls. “I- I- I uh- Um-” he manages to squeeze out. His mind is blank, that almost never happens, now more than ever, but almost never.

Stiles wanted this conversation gone yesterday.

Derek drops him like a sack of potatoes, and says nothing, continuing on.

Stiles picks himself and his grimoire from the ground. “Yep, you're the good old sourwolf Derek, bodily hurting me every chance you have. That's abuse you know?” Stiles tugs the grimoire over his head and into his backpack. “How about we play? Tag maybe? I do that with dad a lot. Or am I too cute and small so you'll think I'm prey and try to kill me?“

He scoffs. “No.”

“Hey, can you hold my backpack? I'm too small to carry it as a fox. If you shift I think you can still carry it if I strap it on you the right way- don't look at me like that, I know what I'm doing. I've done it before.” Derek looks at him and rips the backpack from him without a word, and tugs it on with more force than necessary and walks faster.

“Aren't you gonna shift?” Stiles asks invasively, it had bothered him for some time. That Derek didn't shift. Werewolves in their wolf form have stronger senses that could help in finding the Alpha. But he never shifts, like he can't.

“Oh my god- You can't shift.” Stiles realises with horror, Derek's family was famous _because_ _every werewolf member could transform,_ and that if they had kids with someone outside the pack those kids would have a 50 percent chance they would get the natural ability too.

The Hales are the reason five percent of all werewolves, born or bitten, can transform.

Derek growls, and his eyes flash. “It doesn't matter.” he says but it clearly does from the face he makes as he turns away from Stiles like he somehow feels lessened.

“Of course it matters Derek! I know you can do it- it was always made into some stupid big deal when another Hale kid shifted the first time.” Derek keeps his gaze away from Stiles as claws grow from his fingertips. Dismissing him as he takes off, away from Stiles.

Faster than Stiles cam follow.

So Stiles shifts down and the world becomes bigger as he shrinks down on four paws. He yips and runs to catch up with Derek.

Derek looks down at him and raises an eyebrow. “You're smaller than I thought you'd be. Definitely prey material.” He says patronising.

Stiles gives his best dull ‘Ha-ha-ha, how funny,’ look and nips lightly at Derek's trousers before speeding off into the trees.

Derek is faster than him and swoops Stiles up within four minutes. “You’re small and slow,” he says, mocking Stiles with all the weaknesses he's never going to overcome. Stiles’ heart beats quickly when Derek puts a hand on his head and feels around his fur, petting him with his claws. Stiles has a brief moment of panic, but they trail over his fur and skin with soft and pleasant strokes.“Soft… “ he says as his eyes glow dully as his face begins shifting. Stiles stares as the eyebrows disappear, hair sprouts from the sides of his head, the shape of this nose changes, and his teeth elongate into points.

Then it's all gone, Derek’s normal face is all that's left, and his hand disappears from his head as Stiles is dropped to the ground. It's a rough landing- he's not a freaking cat!- but Stiles makes due.

Derek nudges him with his foot, looking down at Stiles like Stiles does when he sees a dog or a cat and wants to play with it. Stiles barks in protest _I'm not a pet!_

But Derek's already jogging away. He gestures quickly for Stiles to follow him, he narrows his eyes as he takes in at the retreating back. He _really_ wants to chase him. To hunt him, like the serial killers that cats are. To give in to nature and let the fox part of him have mindless fun- but he can't.

Stiles chases after Derek with a goal in mind, to be faster, maybe to ambush him, but definitely to have some fun.

Just not kitsune fun.

* * *

Derek slows down as time goes on until he's almost down on all fours, crawling through the shrubbery. They're closer when Stiles smells it.

A deer. Straight ahead. Derek has led them around so the breeze is facing them, letting them smell the deer but leaving it woefully unaware of them.

Derek's mouth opens just slightly as they spot it ruffling through dead and decaying leaves. Stiles looks at Derek and the _very_ eager and murderous expression on his face and decides he's going to have to act now or never.

Stiles barks loudly and the deer's head springs, it's heart pounding as it leaps from their direction. Derek snarls, his eyes go wild, glowing dangerously and he lets his appearance shift into his beta form as he takes after it on all four- not before swatting Stiles away like a fly in anger- and it looks ridiculous. Stiles almost forgets to catch up with Derek and attempt to draw his attention as he watches the way he's running. He'll admit that Derek is going faster than before, but it looks so fucking ridiculous he has to catch his breath in an attempt to not pass out from laughter.

Stiles can't catch up so when he spots the deer turning he does so as well to intersect Derek. Instead of stopping or being distracted, he scoops up Stiles like ice cream- Stiles really needs to tell people not to manhandle him.

“Get it towards me.” Derek says gruffly and with an expression that tells him Derek will take no deserters from his plan back alive, he throws Stiles out from his arms.

Stiles blinks when he lands, he really doesn't want to be accessory to animal murder. But Derek _is_ a _werewolf_ and Stiles isn’t going to deny him on the full moon. So he chases after the deer. It doesn’t notice him as he catches up, annoyed, Stiles shrieks at the animal and uses a substantial portion of his energy to lay an illusion of his dad's hulking fox form onto himself. The deer skitters away from the large illusionary body and runs in the wrong direction, it's going towards where he feels Derek lurking. Stiles chases it again, cutting off its path at an angle and the deer steers away from him and away from Derek.

The moment stretches as he watches it run away, hopping over obstacles and slamming right into Derek who isn't _where he was before_. Stiles shuts his eyes closed, he doesn't see it, but the sound of the deer’s cries and the feeling of its panic, pain, suffering, and eventual acceptance, is enough for Stiles to know Derek killed it. Werewolves are weird.

And deadly.

Stiles trots up to the werewolf when the deer is dead, he looks up at Derek who stares calmly at his kill, his eyes fading back to his normal hue. The deer has deep scratches along its body, showing muscle, blood, and insides that are slumping out one rift, Stiles’ stomach clenches.

He looks up at Derek again, away from the blood, and gives the best unimpressed look he can manage while a fox. _It's a preserve damn it! Don't go killing deer!_

Derek can't hear him, and shrugs Stiles’ look off him as he bends to collect the deer. Its blood soaks into his clothes- _and Stiles’ backpack!_

Stiles yelps and jumps to try and get his point across- he has grimoires in that backpack!

Derek seems to get the meaning behind his wild jumping and snapping at the straps hanging from the backpack. “your backpack isn't waterproof?” he asks, like it's Stiles fault for not having a blood proof backpack.

He shakes his head, and Derek mumbles _nice things about Stiles_ to himself and pulls the deer off his back again. He shifts the backpack to sit in the front and lifts the deer back up over his shoulders.

And walks.

If Stiles could do telepathy like his dad, Derek would have known exactly how he feels about his stupid murderous werewolf instincts.

He gnaws on his ankles instead.

Revenge.

* * *

That's how Stilinski finds them a good half hour later, Derek trekking around with a dead animal on his shoulders, Stiles’ backpack on his stomach, and Stiles hanging from his ankle as he walks.

Stiles is stuck at this point.

 _“I see you guys are having fun.”_ Stilinski says after a few seconds of staring.

Derek stops and Stiles finally has his chance to remove himself from what has become a bloody situation. Derek glances down at him with a smug expression as his face returns to normal, his eyebrows reappearing. In that moment, Stiles desperately wants to know where they go. Maybe his skin absorbs them.

 _“This is a preserve Derek,”_ Stilinski tells him sternly as he wanders over to sniff at the deer. _“I don't know how your family did it, but I prefer for the animals here not to be hunted.”_

Stiles yips to gain Derek's attention and grins widely at him, rubbing it in Derek’s face. He should have listed to Stiles.

Stiles knows best.

“Shut up.” Derek says, and looks away from them, he is definitely embarrassed now. Looking at Derek and his dad now it's weird to see how Derek is dwarfed by his dad's big Kitsune form. Makes him less scary.

Stiles hums, leaving the two to discuss the dead deer with each other. Stilinski throws a glance at him, they'll talk later.

Stiles doesn't want to talk about his dad lying to him for years.

Instead of thinking about the upcoming conversation, he lets his mind wander, just focusing on whatever it wants. He's easily distracted by anything that moves as the movement catches the attention of his eyes. Stiles has always been more focused in his spirit form- like his natural body cannot contain all it means to be a Kitsune. His focus isn't great as a fox, but it is marginally better than overwise. But sometimes it's good to let the added focus go.

Dad calls out to him but Stiles ignores them and catches a leaf blowing in the wind with his teeth. An owl hoots above him and a rabbit scurries away as it sees him, afraid he'd give chase. Stiles runs, but not at the bunny, looking at everything around him and he finds himself at peace.

After catching his twenty-seventh leaf (he's been counting, last full moon he did a hundred and fifty-eight) he stumbles on a phone lying in the leaves, its blue cover stands out and grabs for his attention like a buzzing fly. It’s laying face up with a star decorated cover covering up the screen, it's probably dead from morning dew, but Stiles hurries over to it anyway. He fiddles with the cover and manages to hook a claw up under the magnet and gets the clasp off to open it. It has a button on the bottom and Stiles carefully presses on it. The screen lights up and on the lock screen is a picture of Derek and a dark-haired woman who is definitely Laura.

He'd gotten very acquainted with her appearance.

Derek looks happy, there's a somewhat goofy smile on his face as he looks into the camera. At his and the girls chest area is a pop-up informing of a media message from a person named Lahey.

 _Who is that_? Stiles wonder as he stares at the screen, at the top is a row of icons indicating missed calls and messages from a variety of programs. The battery is at 7%.

He hurries to put the cover back in place before he scoops the phone up into his mouth. He looks at the trees for moss and Stiles quickly finds north with a small circle around. He runs back to find Derek and his dad, Stiles knows the general direction, but he'd run too far away for him to smell or hear them.

Stiles hears the footsteps first, followed by the twang of a bow. Stiles stops in his tracks. Leaves fly around him. He huddles down to the ground. Keeping low. The rustling of leaves as he slowly creeps forward are like trumpets in his ears loud and revealing.

A fly buzzes by a meter away. Stiles flinches and spots a red dot on a tree to his right. The mist lets him trace the laser to its source. A pair of hunters are walking right towards him. There's a rifle with a laser scope in the arms of one while the other is carrying a crossbow. Stiles squints his eyes shut to block out the purple glow and carefully lays over the phone. Keeping the bright blue cover hidden with dark fur. The hunters steps by him, their footsteps like gunshots. The hunters are past him when a pained howl can be heard - that's definitely Derek, what the hell are they doing?!- and the one closest to Stiles steps in the direction of the howl.

Towards Stiles.

“Vic?” one of them says.

He can almost feel the red light on his fur as the other hunter takes a step towards him. ‘Vic’s’ steps are heavier than the others, less graceful.

His skin crawls as it gets hard to breathe.

“A dead fox?“ Vic mumbles. The voice is feminine, a woman then. Stiles holds his breath, if she thinks he's dead Stiles is safe. His heartbeat is something he can't do anything about, but hunters can't hear heartbeats. The hunter walks closer and nudges Stiles with her boot. The rifle shifts weight, “Get up.” she commands harshly.

 _Of course he can't hide from hunters_ _they're_ professional killers.

She shifts over him. Stiles begs to every God and kitsune he can think of, for her to dismiss him, to leave. To not kill him. A hand clamps down on his neck and rips him from the ground. He snaps the phone into his mouth and trashes in her hold. He wants to snap at the hunter but that would only make him drop the phone. His eyes flash open and he catches sight of red hair and icy blue eyes.

There's the muzzle of a gun in his face. Stiles flinches, curling into himself. Keeping the panic inside, pressing it down deep. If he panics and lashes out, he'll be dead.

“What kind of kitsune are _you_? I've never seen a silver-fox kitsune,” there's fascination in her voice, like he's some exotic animal she's just found. “What about you Chris?“

“No,” Chris says. “But most of my experience with kitsune is with possession. No fox-form.”

“It's holding something,” Vic says and red flashes for his closed eyes, they must be pointing a flashlight at him. She shifts her grip on him and demands, “Let go of the phone.”

Stiles growls at her.

“I think that means no.” Chris says with humour as he steps around Vic and Stiles.

 _Yes, it does so leave me alone assholes._ Stiles thinks and shifts a bit trying to a potentially good angle for biting her arm.

“Are you approved by the Guardian kitsune?“ Vic asks and Stiles nods hurriedly.

There's a small beeping from somewhere below him in their direction. The gun muzzle touches his head briefly, making cold rush down his back, before disappearing. “If you move I will shoot you.”

“Vic!” the man hisses.

She ignores him and seem to take Stiles’ stillness as a yes and takes out her phone. “Yes?” her voice is crisp and professional. “I see. Stay and I'll come to you. Looks like I'll be taking you to the Guardian then.” she addresses Stiles at the end.

Uncaring of Stiles still being held at arm's length she moves through the forest. As she walks Stiles opens his eyes and looks over at Chris, the man looks at him immediately, his glowing eyes probably drawing his attention in. Stiles stares at the hunter the whole way, and Chris stares right back. He kind of looks familiar.

Vic brings them to a collection of hunters standing around his dad and Derek, he can't really see them from the angle he's at, but their smell, and the smell of blood, is impossible to miss. The other hunters - why are there so many? Part as Vic and Chris comes through.

“Is this one yours?” Vic asks and holds Stiles up, so he can see his dad and Derek. Derek is standing with an arrow in hand and a bleeding mess on his side, that's where the blood came from. He's glaring death and growling at a hunter around Derek's own age with bright red hair who's standing nervously a few meters from Derek - right out of claw range, fiddling with his crossbow. Dad is scanning the crowd as the woman shows him off and his face freezes when his attention is called and he spots Stiles.

Stilinski rises to his full height, his back straight, and snarls, his eyes darting from Stiles to the gun in Vic’s other hand. The hunters flinch and Stilinski’s ears perk with satisfaction as he slowly walks over to tower over the woman.

She doesn't flinch, “So he is one of yours?“ she asks despite Stilinski’s gleaming teeth being less than a meter from her face.

 _“Hand him over,”_ The words are sharp as they enter the minds of everyone around, _“Or is this how hunters do things now? Threatening innocent supernaturals? What happened to your code? I remember when your kind began using it, it was quite relaxing not to be hunted every hour of my day, but it seems that it's gone out of fashion again. What a pity, Marie Jeanne Argent must be rolling in her grave.”_

Ah. That would make Chris, Kate's famous brother with balls of diamonds.

“Everyone stand down.” Vic says and like magic, all the hunters point's their weapons to the ground, away from Derek and Stilinski. She bends down and sets Stiles down on his ass.

Stiles hauls ass towards Stilinski and trips halfway there as he misses a root peeking out. He smashes chin first into the ground and the screen of the phone cracks as the pressure becomes a bit too much.

The hunter grunts around him laugh mockingly.

Stiles lashes out with fury, dropping the phone, and with one of his newer magic exercises, forces four of them to fall over backwards with a strong push.

Then there are weapons in his face again and Dad is standing over him, growling as Derek watches the hunter he'd been threatening crawl to his feet. Derek looks pleased. Good for him, he's not the one getting the guns in his face.

He better thank Stiles for that later.

Or he'll get pranked.

“Stand down,” Vic repeats and the hunters hesitates. “I said stand down!” she snarls then, fury crossing her face, ”or do you want to start a supernatural incident!? Anyone who doesn't stand down right now will be punished, that's not a threat, that's a _promise_!”

The hunters step back like good little grunts and begin gathering around Vic, and Chris, who looks amused at the whole thing as he glances around at his subordinates.

“Guardian,” Vic says in the same commanding tone. “control your subjects, if your small kitsune there had done that outside Beacon Hills we would be guilt free if we decided to put it down. I suggest you teach it how the world works.”

Stiles grumbles in the back of his throat. Of course, he knew that he wasn't stupid. But Stiles didn't _attack_ them, so they can't. Threatening power drunk assholes.

Stilinski stands over Stiles, silent as he watches Vic for _something. “he knows the rules Victoria, if I remember correctly, self-defence isn't punishable outside Beacon Hills either.”_

Victoria huffs. “Control your subjects and we won't have a problem,” she gestures to the side and the hunters begin to leave. “We're hunting the Alpha, don't get in our way.” she leaves last, with Chris who glances back at them.

 _“Stiles.’_ Stilinski says, displeased.

Stiles shrugs and points a paw towards himself and snarls, snapping his jaw angrily at the air.

 _“I get that you were angry, I was too. So just try a little harder next time?’_ there's a definite plea in his voice, Stiles nods. He will. He didn't even plan on shoving those hunters, it just happened- he was angry. And he's already regretting doing it. But in the moment I was just _good_ to get some petty revenge.

Stiles looks at Stilinski for a few seconds, telling him he's serious, and glances down at the phone whose cover has deep bite marks. He must have bit too hard.

“Where did you find that?” Derek sounds furious as he snatches the phone from the ground. “it's cracked.” he tells them as he looks at the screen.

‘ _That's Laura's phone?’_ dad asks and peers over Derek's shoulder. _‘We couldn't find it, but we can get the data out, see if there's anything on it.’_

Stiles thinks he should shift back to human, but he really doesn't want to. It's like he can't, like how you can't not eat chocolate when it's placed before you. He pushes leaves away at his feet and begins writing in the revealed dirt. _There was a media from Lahey._

Dad looks at Derek who pulls his shoulders, “I don't know who it is. Last time I saw La- Laura- she'd just gotten a package. I didn't see her again after that.”

 _‘Okay, we can work with that, no matter how little it is.’_ Stilinski says irritated at the lack of information leading up to Laura's murder. _‘put the phone in the backpack, I'll take it to the station tomorrow, and get the data.’_

Stiles is about to run off after a leaf when their conversation begins to bore him, but is stopped when teeth close in on him and he's pulled up by his dad.

Derek, the ass, attempts to hide a smirk as Stiles struggles.

He can walk himself. Thank you very much!

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's shown support for the story! Thank you so much! I'm not all that happy with this chapter (and I ended up cutting a lot of it from it) but I hope you guys liked it!


	6. Don't be in cities at night unless you want to be bit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time on Demons: Scott discovers that Stiles is a Kitsune when Sheriff Stilinski comes to his defence against a dangerous Alpha werewolf, which results in Stilinski getting a life-threatening injury and Stiles teaming up with Derek Hale. Derek searches for the Alpha, wanting revenge for his sister, whom it killed, and Stiles searches for a magical cure to the alphas bite that's slowly killing his dad. Stiles struggles with the knowledge that hunters are in Beacon Hills and meets Kate Argent, who seems to have her own motive in coming to Beacon Hills, and on the night of the Full Moon, he discovers Laura's almost drained phone, giving them clues to why Laura was in Beacon Hills. And maybe, clues that will help them defeat the Alpha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter took a long time to come out… life happened, and I moved.  
> Which is why I've written a little summary of what's been happening in the story, just the more important broad parts-- because remembering exactly what happened after almost four months is pretty difficult. (at least it is for me when stories I follow takes months to update)

 

**Stiles V**

Stiles wakes with a startle, flinging himself from his cover, landing on all fours, his fur rises in panic and he flees from _something._ But the only thing lingering from the dream is the erratic beating of his small fox heart and an uncomfortable and unpleasant feeling throughout his body. His legs are shivering as he pulls himself to the toilet, shifting back into a human to reach the sink and stare in the mirror. He splashes his face with water, pees, and gets dressed before heading downstairs where he finds Derek and his dad sitting at the table discussing Derek's uncle.

“Hey, you okay Stiles?” Dad asks when he spots him, “you fell out your bed.”

“Yeah, I'm okay, just some nightmare.” He mumbles, tried, as he heads straight for the cornflakes.

Peter Hale disappeared sometime between Wednesday and today. The nurses who'd been in charge with Peter claims he was transferred to another hospital, but when Derek called the supposed new hospital, they'd never heard of Peter Hale. The form signing his transfer was signed by Laura Hale several days after her death, claiming she'd wanted him transferred to a better hospital.

Derek bounces the idea that Peter was kidnapped by the alpha, something Stiles finds pretty unlikely, but he keeps his thoughts to himself and buries his doubts in corn flakes with cacao powder mixed into the milk.

“The alpha is building a pack,” Dad says. “We suspect it might want Peter in it, you too Derek. But that also brings up the uncomfortable fact that if the alpha took Peter, there's an accomplice we don't know about.”

Derek shifts, it's nothing new. But it looks like dad is about to explain, so Stiles crunches on his slowly softening cornflakes and listens. Some have dry patches of cacao that puffs in his mouth, and that's just not a nice feeling. “What do you mean?”

“A boy, a few years older than Stiles, just out of high school, Jason Fisher, and a girl of twelve, Emma Sanders, was both bitten today. Jason died when his body rejected the bite and Emma is shaken, but Satomi is with her and her family, getting them caught up before the next full moon.”

“Satomi is an alpha that lives in a town close to Beacon Hills.” Stiles explains for Derek.

”I know who Satomi is.” Derek says, offended and Stiles’ willingness to help.

Stiles flickers his eyes around and looks away and at his dad. “Will it come after Scott?”

Dad shakes his head and looks dazed from the movement. “No,” He pauses with a small blink. “The alpha left both Jason and Emma after having bitten them--it was close to taking Jason with it but it fled when seen. I suspect it’s unstable, the natural instinct would be for the alpha to stay close to a potential new beta, but it was a hit and run. We consulted with the Argents and they agreed that the alpha is running on instinct when it bites unwilling kids, but its insanity is making it unstable, hence why it is leaving the kids.”

Stiles bristles and Derek nodded. “That is true, my- my mother- she didn’t leave my younger brother’s side for days when she had turned him. She later told me that her instincts needed her to make sure the transition was successful.”

“And the hunters?” Stiles prods, also prodding in his cornflakes. “Why aren’t they suspects?” The last part comes out harsher than he wanted, and Derek snaps his gaze to him. “What about Peter himself? He has the motive, _and_ he's been _burned alive,_ who's to say he didn't go insane?”

“Peter wouldn't kill Laura!” Derek hisses dangerously, his claws spreading out flatly over the table, not scratching the wooden surface. “He loved her!”

“I agree with Derek.” Dad shoots him down, immediately supporting Derek. Stiles snaps his head up and glares at his dad, almost showing his teeth as the urge to hiss at his dad flares its ugly head.

“What.”

“I knew Peter before the fire, he wouldn't attack random kids, _much less Laura,_ his niece. He had a rebellious streak, but he was just as devoted to the protection of Beacon Hills and his pack than anyone--and _never_ would have created all this chaos. We also have _no_ evidence of the alpha being Peter. The hunters are on shaky ground, but the autopsy revealed that Laura was bisected hours past her death, which makes their involvement with Laura's death unlikely, possible. But very unlikely. Furthermore, they have no motive to take Peter. We are still keeping an eye on the hunters of course, but the Alpha is our priority--it doesn't matter if it's actually Peter or not” He ignores Stiles’ scrutinising- not even entertaining the idea that Peter is the alpha--and continues, looking over at the resident werewolf. “Derek, I need you to stay in our spare bedroom until all of this is over.”

“Absolutely not.” Derek almost hisses like a cat. It's almost adorable except he's a grown man, who's also a dangerous werewolf.

“It is not a request Derek, think of it as protective custody. I can’t have you out there alone at night when there's a possibility the alpha is after you,” Dad explains. “Our house is protected, so I’ll know if the alpha gets close. Your old house does not have that advantage.” he doesn't mention that it's better for Derek--psychologically--to be staying at their place. Staying in the burnt remains of his old home where his family died can't be good for anyone.

Derek stares at him and then looks at Stiles, and then back again, “Okay.”

 

* * *

  

**Lydia I**

“Let's watch _The Notebook_.” Lydia says and twists her body over to Jackson who grips his steering wheel tightly and tightens his jaw. His face looks handsome in the faint light and Lydia admires the view a few seconds longer. He's been tense all day, that McCall kid joining their table must have annoyed him more than his subtle bullying had implied.

“Again?” Jackson sneers hostile as he stops for a red light. The streets are empty as they almost always are in this area on Saturday nights. Everything worth attention is behind them, further towards the industrial area.

“Yes, everything you pick is boring.” Lydia closes her eyes as a traffic light flashes into her eyes and listens to the soothing pitter-patter of rain falling on the car.

Jackson hits the expensive steering wheel roughly and glares at her. “I'm not watching _The Notebook_ again!”

“Yes, you are, I'll make it up to you-- _while we're watching._ ” she drags her hand over his thigh and slips one leg under her as she leans over with a small smile.

Jackson’s eyes widen as his jaw hangs slack and Lydia knows she's won, but then his eyes scoots away from her face and through her window. He pales, a small sound escapes through his gaping mouth. “What!?” Lydia snaps and looks out her window curious to what was more important to him than ogling her breasts as he usually would.

She screams and the creature standing down the left turn, jerks, startled, before leaping towards them.

“Lydia!” Jackson screams and reaches to push her back into her seat as the creature slams into their car. The world spins as Jackson's Porsche is overturned and tumbles around, the sides dents and the airbags go off and forces the air from Lydia's lungs.

Lydia blinks, the car is lying still on its side. Through the fog of the windscreen, she can see the stop lights red glow, she looks up at Jackson. He's hanging limply in his seat belt, his face turned towards her and in the dim light, Lydia can spot a long cut on his left cheek. His face is covered in blood, dripping down on her, dark red liquid standing out against his skin.

“Jacon,” She whispers. Everything is quiet, like the sound delay after a bomb. The light reaching them before the sound. The quiet before the blast pulls everything into oblivion. “Jakson wake op!” She hisses her words out and moves to push him but is stopped by a burst of dizziness. Lydia pushes against her throbbing head and squints her eyes shut as a sound resembling a fork scraping on a plate and metal smashing together makes her ears ring. She's staring blankly at Jackson, trying to make her thoughts work as normally as the door above them is ripped off its hinges and the clang of it hitting the asphalt makes Lydia flinch as the rain is let in.

A hand with claws and dark fur sweeps through the hole where there should be a door. It swipes past her, sharp claws almost slashing into her arm before gripping Jackson's arm and ripping him out. The seat belt strains against Jackson's body but eventually gives in and Lydia is nearly hit in the head by the loose straps. A furred hand rests at the door opening as Jackson is being dragged up and rips at the car, making it sway as one claw one stays stuck as it leaves.

Her vision waves as the raindrops hit her face and Lydia screams, white noise ringing in her head. The radio beeps to life, suddenly playing a distorted version of Who's afraid of the big bad wolf.

Before Lydia can take in the irony, the light streaming through the front window flickers as something moves in its path. Lydia can see the animal better as it drags Jackson a small distance from the car. The light around it makes its form stand out in the night, showing off its bulky muscles that almost shapes it like a man, but the bone structure is wrong at the legs, looking more canine in nature, the head is elongated with a canine snout, and behind it, is a tail. She can hear it growling as it lays a front paw, too much like a human, on Jackson's chest. She's sure it's going to press down and collapse Jackson's chest, but it doesn't, instead, it leans down and bites Jackson's shoulder.

Jackson doesn't twitch, and Lydia knows he is not dead despite all the evidence. She can't place why, as she lays there against the car door, strapped to her seat, she is so convinced Jackson is still alive despite being bitten and mauled in front of her.

The creature looks up from Jackson’s body with its eerie red eyes and sniffs in her direction once before it hulk over, towards the car she is in. Lydia's body locks up as it goes on its hind legs and stares down at her through the hole where the door it had ripped off had previously been. It reaches down for her, and its man like front paws wraps their way around her arm. Lydia screams as a gunshot rings in her ears and the creature finches with a howl as it rips its hand away from her, leaving deep claw marks that tear into her skin. Lydia screams and the monster gives the car a big shove as it springs away and back to where Jackson is lying still.

Cars swarm the area their motors growling almost as loudly as the animal. Another gunshot rings out and the animal jerks above Jackson, it has something long and narrow stuck in it's back. It's glowing red eyes find her for a second, seeming so sad in Lydia's eyes, before it scoops Jackson up and flees with him in his arms. Cars drive off after it and a voice calls to her from the outside.

“Are you okay?” There's a woman with short bright red hair in the door opening. Lydia nods and looks away, she's okay but that might just be the shock and adrenaline. “Okay, we're going to get you to safety, okay?”

A few more people come around and lift her out the car as an ambulance nears. Aren't they supposed to wait until the professionals get there? Lydia can't remember, but there is something about the people that calms her down. The woman sits with her and analyses the deep scratches the animal left in Lydia's arm. The people milling around the crash are all wearing ugly outfits, not very stylish, but more for practicality. Lydia understands mutely in the back of her head, but they could have picked something better.

At least the woman has a bit of taste even if she looks like she just ripped muffs of her hands before coming here.

“Who is your friend?” The woman asks slowly and firmly as the sound of glass being smashed reaches her. “The one it took.”

“Ackson, Mhy boyfriend.” Lydia says and wraps the blanket they had placed around her shoulders closer to herself. Lydia blinks. “What's zhat?” She asks staring at the pair of pale eyes on the street corner, they're low to the ground and the streetlights show the two ears above them. It is another one, just different, smaller and more animalistic, with two tails instead of one.

“A werewolf, we're going to take care of it and get your boyfriend back.” The woman says, and Lydia is about to correct her, but when she looks up, the pale eyes are gone. The red-haired woman sits with her until the ambulance arrives and Lydia is packed inside.

 

* * *

 

**Derek III**

 Derek decides to head back to The Cerise (Stiles wants to go back to the Stilinski household) a few hours after sunset, it's dark out and while they do see well in the dark, the rain that had broken out, clenched all chances of sniffing the Alpha out. Also, after hours of searching aimlessly, they're ready to find a new strategy. 

“I think I can bribe Danny to do some hacking for us,” Stiles suggests and kicks at a lone rock, watching it as it flies out onto the wet asphalt. “Keep an eye on security cameras, for when it has to come buy food… where would it even get money for buying food?”

“I think the Alpha would make his own food,” Derek huffs. “Every pup learns how to skin and cook wild animals, it's one of the ways the young are taught control. Besides, it won't work. Technology has a specific sound you just can't mask, even insane, the Alpha will know to avoid the sound.”

“Well that's fucking great,” Stiles laughs and chokes. “I can just imagine this small Derek, giant eyebrows, and those cute teeth, staring down this small adorable bunny with tears in his eyes because he has to snap its neck.”

“...” Derek says nothing, only stares at Stiles like he is speaking in tongues. Stiles blinks. “We're not savages.” he says eventually.

“I doubt you'd be, you're too well cultured like you're having dinner with the queen every day.”

Derek doesn't reply, instead, he looks out over the street where a couple is walking on the other side of the street with their hoods up for the rain and obscuring their faces in shadows. There's something off about them. Their walk is all odd angles and awkward bouncing, they're probably some non-shifter supernatural.

Stiles catches his gaze and stares at the two slowly walking away. He groans and flips his hands around as he talks, getting Derek's attention. “Ugh. Why does the preserve have to be so big? It would be nice if it was the size of a football field, or a pea, just once.” he complains uselessly.

“I smell your asthmatic human.” Derek says as the smell penetrates the downpour, only a few seconds before McCall comes bicycling around the corner, wheels splashing with water. His breath comes out short as he slides to a stop, almost running them over.

McCall sees Stiles first and smiles wide and strained, a small word is on his lips, but it slips away with his slime as his eyes catch Derek standing a bit behind Stiles.

Scott looks back at Stiles, his eyes shifting to Derek with nervous flutters of his heart every few seconds. “Hey Stiles, what are you doing?”

“Out searching for the grim,” Stiles replies with an odd and not quite there smile of his own as Scott pales just slightly. “You've met Derek.”

“Yeah…” Scott says and looks Derek over, his heart beating faster. “So- uh. What are you two doing out here in the rain?”

Stiles snorts, “Going back home, going through the preserve like lost little children isn’t working. The area is just too big, like looking for a hair in a haystack- or you know a needle since this needle draws blood if you come at it from the wrong direction wrong. So back to brainstorming.”

“Is there anything I can do?” McCall asks hesitantly, it's obvious he wants a no in reply, but he also seems to have a desire to help out despite the fear reeking off him like a bad perfume.

“You just go back to school and woo Allison,” Stiles pats McCall on the shoulder and the other boy flinches, it's subtle, but Stiles clearly caught it as he withdraws his hand a bit too quickly to be casual. “Maybe ask your boss for some mountain ash, um- he should be able to teach you how to use it. Then you can protect yourself from all things that go bump in the night--like Derek or-”

Me.

Derek watches with pity, it's rare to get a human friend that's accepting of the gifts they have.

“I'll do that.” McCall says, just as a _scream_ unlike anything he's ever heard reaches him, his hands clasp up to his ears to block out the sound uselessly. The noise rips at his brain like it travelled on a wavelength his hands can't block.

“Did you hear that?”  the tips of Stiles’ fingers are slowly slipping out of his ears, a more effective way of blocking out the sound.

“Hear what?” the human asks, his eyes wide and confused with a rush of fear.

Derek looks over at Stiles and their eyes meet just as the sound comes again, this time more desperate and Stiles stills as he takes the full front of the sound.

“Lydia.” he whispers, his voice hoarse as he turns and begins running towards the sound. His form twists as he seamlessly slips into his kitsune form, bursting ahead with faster strides than in his human form.

“Who's Lydia?” Derek demands, his hands reaching and trapping McCall in place, there's something in his eyes, he recognised the name Stiles said.

“I- she's- Lydia is-” McCall stammers, his eyes wide as he looks down where Derek is touching him.

“Speak!” Derek growls, his eyes glowing.

“She's a girl- from school,” McCall hurries out and pulls out of Derek's paws. “Leave me the hell alone!” Scott snaps.

There's that fear again. “Do you think we're animals?“ McCall's eyes widen and he stammers. “Do you think that just because we're not human, that we will just snap and attack you? Why the hell are you acting like I'm--that _Stiles_ is just as dangerous as the alpha?”

“Stiles _is_ my friend!”

“Then act like it!” _why does Derek even care?_ His Bain ponders as his words rip out of him with a growl and sharp teeth. “Did you know that Stiles is the most pathetic kitsune I've ever met? He's slow as a human, his healing isn't much better--he's weak as a _human._ You're pathetic! He's pathetic! I can see how you two ended up gravitating towards each other! A pair of useless people--the abnormally weak human and kitsune!”

“You don't get to talk about Stiles like that! Not with everything he's been through because of me!” McCall slaps Derek, harder than he'd expect from a human. And staggers back, “Oh my God! I'm so sorry!”

Derek feels a flash of satisfaction and respect for the human. “Because of you?”

“I- just go away, please. Leave me alone.” McCall grips the handles of his bike tightly, short nails digging into the soft material. He looks down, away from Derek. _Submitting_ Peter says mockingly in his head.

“Fine.” Derek says, granting him his wish and rushes in the direction of Stiles’ fading scent as the downpour slowly washes it away.

He loses Stiles’ scent after a few minutes, but another scream from the girl, Lydia, brings him back into the right direction. Gunshots ring out as he finds Stiles’ small form hidden behind a trash can as he watches hunters chase after the Alpha who's dragging a body after it. _Someone it’s bit,_ Derek's brain supplies, it's getting more stable. And Derek can't let it build a pack. There's strength in numbers.

“Follow the Alpha and Jackson.” Stiles says as he watches a redheaded woman approach an overturned car.

Derek doesn't ask who Jackson is, it can only be the soon to be werewolf the Alpha took. He follows the cars speeding off to give chase to the Alpha easily. The cars split up, the sounds of their motors distinct, as they herd the Alpha towards the preserve and away from the town inhabiting too ignorant and innocent humans.

The herding leads the alpha back the direction Stiles and Derek had just come from, McCall is luckily gone already. But the odd supernatural couple they'd seen walking peacefully on the street screams as the Alpha tears through them both and flees, creating a distraction.

Derek spares a glance at them, their features more prominent now the hoods have fallen back. They're mermaids, with their faces free for all to see, identifying them is easy as the scales on their faces glint in the street light. A hunter car breaks off to assist the two, most likely not noticing the spell hiding their tail as human legs or the fins peeking out through hair, or the scales that can be mis-seen as glitter.

Derek falls to all fours as the Alpha begins speeding up and the Hunters lose ground. He wishes he could change, run wild like when he was younger. Before Kate. But it's impossible now. He is fast enough in his human form and he begins catching up to the Alpha, it's slower than what Derek expected. But with a teenager gripped in its one arm, the more dominant and caring alpha instincts are telling it to protect the boy first. It runs carefully, to not hurt the boy.

Derek jumps onto the alpha as it escapes from the city, but still a small distance from the fence to the reserve. It drops the boy with a roll, letting him slide mostly painlessly across the asphalt. Derek snarls at the Alpha and it takes a swipe at him while rolling to shake him off, Derek dodges by jumping off and rolling to a stop. His back arches as he readies to jump again, standing between the alpha and the boy. the alpha lumbers up on all fours, it's ugly and deformed lips reaching back into a vicious snarl.

“What did you do with Peter Hale?!” Derek roars.

Deep rumbles vibrate out the alphas throat as it paws at the road, ripping up asphalt. it takes a step back and opens its mouth, the sounds coming from it sounds almost like words in their unnatural tones. They sound almost human, like the alpha is confused by his question.

“What?” Derek snarls, if it wants to talk then it should, werewolves may not have the telepathy to speak in someone's mind like Kitsune, but body language works almost the same way. All werewolves watch the body language of each other, the subtle communication sometimes more important than words.

The alpha shakes its head with rushed movements, it jumps on Derek before he can react, pushing him down to the asphalt by his shoulders. The claws dig in painfully and the Alpha howls in his face, a howl to submit. Derek scratches at its underbelly and it snarls, its claws dig in deeper at his defiance.

The hunter cars are just around the corner and Derek kicks up at it with all the power in his body, and despite its superior strength, the Alpha falters and staggers off him. Derek jumps to his feet and rushes over to the boy, snatching him up by the ruined collar of his shirt. The Hunters speed past just as Derek has dragged the boy onto the sidewalk, he shields his eyes. Not seeing his glowing eyes, hunters assume they've been attacked by the alpha, and not a threat. So, they aim their fire at it instead of them.

Again, another car breaks off to make sure Derek and the boy are okay, leaving only three cars and six hunters to chase the alpha. There's only one hunter in the car and Derek recognises his smell before he steps out the car. It's the red-headed hunter who'd shot him with an arrow the previous night. The hunter begins talking soothingly as he approaches them, and Derek just stares before taking a look at the boy’s bite mark. It's not oozing black which means his body has accepted the bite and he will turn.

“Damn, he's going to turn,” The hunter says and crouches down by them before taking a good look at Derek's face. The hunter blinks and subtly leans away, his hand moving to a better angle to draw the gun at his side. “Derek Hale?”

Derek nods, “And Jackson, the one the Alpha took.” he says shortly, not wanting to really talk with hunters associated with the family that killed his.

“And you rescued him?” The hunter asks disbelievingly.

“Yes,” Derek almost growls and fishes out his phone, relishing just slightly, in how the hunter’s heartbeat spikes. The hunter doesn't do anything, probably realising he's too close, that if Derek decided to attack there would be little he could do. Derek quickly finds the sheriff's number and dials it.

“Sheriff Stilinski.” Stilinski says.

“Sheriff it's Derek,” the hunter's heartbeat spikes again, “The alpha has bitten a boy named Jackson and attacked a girl named Lydia.”

“God,” Stilinski says. “How's Stiles?”

“He's fine?” Derek asks, confused why he would be asked about Stiles and not Jackson.

“Where are you?”

Derek quickly looks around for a street sign and tells Stilinski. “I'm on my way.” Stilinski says and hangs up.

“The sheriff huh?” the hunter asks nervously. “You guys friends?”

Derek stares back silently and the hunter sweats. 

Leaving the boy, Jackson, with the hunter Derek leaps, with his anger swirling through him, Derek can almost feel the fur shifting over his skin. But nothing happens, and Derek stays in his human form. The scent is faint but the trail of blood in the water flowing over the asphalt leads him.

He runs through the preserve, following the red blood and the smell. He runs past his old home where the blood leads inside and when it follows out its lessened. He'll look inside the house later, the Alpha could have bandaged up, Derek had left supplies in the house in case he'd need it someday, and if it had, then I would mean it has the mind to do it.

Hunters use the loss of control under the full moon for hunting because most werewolves don’t have the human thought processes to see through tricks or make their own when the moon stands tall. Human thought makes werewolves more dangerous. Control makes them calculating.

Derek advances on.

He stops briefly as he passes a giant tree stump and spreads his hand out over the rough lines signifying its ancient age. It seems familiar.

The fury in his bones washes out the familiarity that makes him want to stay. The alpha is more important than any comfort of his. He runs for what feels like hours, following a faint blood trail that never seems to stop.

His phone rings, it's somehow alive in his wet pockets.

“Derek.” It's Stilinski.

Derek is still running his eyes seeing the glimmer of blood and his nose catching it through the thinning rain. “What?”

“You've been gone for hours, I need you back for when Jackson wakes.”

“I have his scent!” Derek snarls in the machine and loses sight of the blood, his own runs cold.

_Where did it go!?_

Derek steps back, ignoring Stilinski talking, and searches for the scent and the blood. It's gone. Like there had never been anything at all. He runs back a bit, he knows the preserve, he's run in those woods his whole life. But where there were blood and the scent, there's nothing now. Like he'd been chasing ghosts.

Derek collapses.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was split into two as it flew out of control back when I wrote the first draft months ago, it was supposed to have a Scott perspective, then the Lydia one, the Derek one, then the stuff in the next chapter that elongated it beyond what I'd planned as Jackson sneaked his way onto the page with a long section when I just wanted to write his discovery of what he has become.
> 
> That's what's in store for chapter 07.
> 
> Also, two doodles for those of you that like them, they're a sort of apology for being so slow.


End file.
